


Just A Memory

by justmattycakes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Pacific Rim (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, BAMF Michelle Jones, But there was only one robot!, Cancel the Apocalypse, Drift Compatibility, F/M, Irondad, Partners to Lovers, Slow Burn, The Drift (Pacific Rim), They were driftmates... Oh my God they were driftmates, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23370259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmattycakes/pseuds/justmattycakes
Summary: With Chitauri aliens pouring through the Breach, humanity has been pushed to the brink of extinction, pinning its final hopes on Tony Stark's ailing JAEGAR program and his brilliant plan: a washed-up former Jaeger pilot (Michelle Jones) and his own eager protege (Peter Parker). Will Peter and Michelle find love - and each other - in the drift? And can these dumb kids cancel the apocalypse? Tune in to find out!
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 106
Kudos: 72





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Machiavelien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Machiavelien/gifts).



Michelle 

Michelle stared quietly out from her perch, brushing the crumbs from her sandwich off her sketchpad as she tried to get the arc of the coastline just right. The sun was beginning to slip toward the horizon and Michelle's shift was ending soon, but she felt the need to capture this moment down on paper. There were precious few moments worth enjoying now, and it felt wrong to waste one when she still had the chance to experience it.

Once she was done with her sketch, Michelle packed her pad and pencils away and finished the last few rivets on her stretch of I-beam. Stowing her gear, she surveyed the long line of the wall coming down from Wilmington in the north, dipping across the continental shelf off Myrtle Beach and heading south toward Charleston. Below, the wind whipped the caps of the waves into a frothy white foam, and the air tasted of brine and that ever-present fishiness that Michelle still hadn't managed to tune out.

She scrunched her nose at the smell and sighed; she'd be following the construction jobs further south in two days and she was looking forward to moving on from here.

In the distance, the familiar shape of a military helicopter stood out, banking against the wind and aiming for a landing pad just past the shoreline. Michelle stared at it, wondering what business would bring the brass to this godforsaken stretch of littered sand and skeevy dive bars.

Michelle made her way down the wall, trusting in the comfortable familiarity she'd developed over the last three years working on the Coastal Perimeter Defense Program -- known colloquially as the Wall of Life, the allied coalition's last ditch attempt to stop the Chitauri threat that poured from the Breach.

The wall was the only work she felt content to do, the grueling hours and dangerous heights forcing her to stay focused on the task at hand instead of letting her mind wander. She knew not to chase the memories -- getting lost among the phantoms was dangerous on the wall much like it was dangerous inside a Jaeger.

No, memories were better left in the past, especially the ones that weren't her own.

_I miss you, Gayle,_ thought Michelle. _I wish you hadn't left me alone._

Her older sister Gayle's memories were mixed with her own, a consequence of their time spent in the drift that had become second nature to her. Sometimes the memories were so loud that Michelle could hardly think -- especially those of the night Gayle had died in the Jaegar off the coast of Nova Scotia.

_I did this to help, not to run away_ , Michelle told herself, but -- of course -- there was no one to answer.

She finished clocking out and handed her gear off to the workers in the next shift, watching briefly as they began to climb the wall under brilliant spotlights. Work on the wall had accelerated in recent months, keeping pace with the increased activity around the Breach, and now there was work happening twenty-four-seven. The only thing keeping them from doubling the workforce was the lack of reliable welding equipment, and the shortages weren't ending any time soon.

The sight of the _Stark Industries_ logo on the helicopter sent a shiver down Michelle's spine, and she turned and headed in the opposite direction, content to weave her way through the makeshift offices where wall contracts were bartered for rations.

"You're a hard woman to find," came a voice from further down the old warehouse that stopped her in her tracks.

"Apparently not hard enough," Michelle replied, allowing herself to sigh before turning to face her old _commander,_ if he could be called that. "What are you doing here, Tony?"

And there he stood, the disgraced prince of the once crucial J.A.E.G.A.R.(Just An Earth Guardian Assault Robot) Program, now left rudderless with only a handful of remaining Jaegers and Rangers, the machines' pilots. His beard had begun to grey and his hair was spotted with salt and pepper coloring, but he still had the cocky bearing of a Jaeger jockey who'd never let his own legend die -- at least, not for himself.

"Hey kid, where's the love? I came all the way down to South Carolina to find you. I wouldn't do that for just anyone, you know?"

"And why have you graced me with your presence? Bored because they're shutting the Jaegars down and you'll be out of a job? Or are you even more desperate than you look?"

Tony favored her with a friendly smile and she realized it was the latter. "Things are looking a bit desperate, but I've got a plan coming together. Something to end it once and for all. That's why I need pilots -- why I need you."

Michelle laughed. "Things must _really_ be bad if you're trying to get me back in the cockpit. Why even bother, the Wall will be done in two months, even a skeleton crew can hold the line against the Chitauri for two months."

"Maybe in your day, but things are different now. We're losing Jaegars faster than we can replace them, and the Chitauri are getting bigger and coming more and more often. You've seen the news, haven't you?" Tony shrugged, spreading his hands wide as if it should be obvious. "The category three that you took down off the coast of Nova Scotia…"

"Tony, don't…"

"...we've had four _this year_ that were bigger. The last three were category fours."

Michelle kicked at a loose piece of cement, watching as it skittered aimlessly across the dust covered concrete."Why are you telling me this? I'm washed up and out of practice. I don't even have a _drift partner_ \-- I'm not going in there again, not with anyone else. Don't you get it? I'm doing work here, making a difference. Find someone else for your plan."

"There isn't anyone else, Michelle. Don't you think I've tried? I've got a Mark III with your name all over it, no one else has jockeyed one with a kill count like yours. No one who is still alive, I mean." Tony reached out to clap her shoulder, but Michelle leaned back, unwilling to give him any footing.

"I've seen the debates and heard the experts, the Wall is a viable option. I'd feel better building it than relying on someone else. It's a no, Tony. I'm done."

Tony pulled his sunglasses out of his suit pocket, still immaculately dressed despite his supposed funding cutbacks. "Fine, I'll let you think about it. I'm heading back to the city tomorrow morning and I want you on that helicopter. We don't have two months for the Wall to finish -- we barely have a week if what my guys are saying is true." He pulled a card out and handed it to her, his name and number printed in black. "Just give me a call when you're ready to stop running."

Michelle slipped the card into her pocket without looking, knowing she wouldn't make the call. After Tony was out of sight, she leaned her forearm against the wall and let her head rest against the warm flesh, focusing on her breathing.

The images of Gayle flashed through her mind, heedless of her desperate need to avoid them. She could still feel the ache in her arm from where the circuits had fried her skin and nerve endings as _Knifehead_ \-- her final Chitauri kill -- had torn through their Jaegar's armor. She remembered the look on her own face from Gayle's perspective, the confusing swarm of memories and feelings and pain that was shared over their neural bridge as Gayle was ripped from her spot in the cockpit.

Michelle's heart ached with the loss, like her senses and mind and body had all been torn in two in an instant, half of her gone forever. She wanted to scream and thrash and give Tony a piece of her mind for even considering bringing her back. Did he have any idea how it felt to lose someone in the drift? He couldn't, otherwise he would understand why she would never step foot inside a Jaegar again.

That night, Michelle watched the news in horror as a category four Chitauri tore through a section of the Wall of Life off the coast of the UK, rampaging from Cardiff to London over eight hours before the military was able to take it down. At four in the morning, Michelle switched the set off and dialed Tony's number from the card.

"Alright, I'm in," she admitted, and the words didn't shake as she said them.

"Good, I've had enough of South Carolina to last me a lifetime. I'll see you at sunrise, kid."

* * *

Peter 

"Chopper SI-1 has clearance to land. Proceed to landing pad two," directed a voice over the intercom. Peter exhaled slowly and stood, the nervous energy causing him to fidget.

Why was he nervous? He'd studied hundreds of hours of footage of Gipsy Danger and its pilots, the Jones sisters. _Former pilots,_ he reminded himself, slipping his raincoat on over his training gear and grabbing two umbrellas. 

Walking through the maze of spartan corridors that wove through the base, Peter decided that his anxiety must be centered on the candidates he'd selected for Ms. Jones's co-pilot. It was difficult enough to try to model drift compatibility charts, even more so since he'd never met Michelle in person -- or drifted himself.

From the footage he had watched, Peter could tell that the Jones sisters focused more on instinct and power than training and precision, but it had served them well over the years they patrolled the Eastern seaboard.

But this mission was different, there was a plan and directives that needed to be followed. It wasn't a matter of going one on one with a Chitauri -- they needed to stick together and follow orders, or it could get the team killed. 

Peter remembered the glimpse of footage that the cockpit cam had managed to record before Gipsy was knocked out of commission; Gayle and Michelle turning toward each other and screaming, a split second before the Chitauri's claws dug through the metal hull and ripped Gayle from her control harness.

"Heading out to grab Tony and the new Jaegar pilot?" Happy asked as Peter passed through 'the bridge', Tony's command center and the beating heart of the Jaegar Program operation.

"Yeah, they're just touching down now. Helipad two."

"It's pouring out there," Happy added, though Peter could easily see that through the giant windows.

Peter grabbed his tablet, walking to the elevator that would take him to the landing pad. He flipped Michelle's profile open and scanned the information that he'd already read dozens of times in the last three days. Hell, he'd compiled most of it himself. She stared back at him from the photograph on top, bored and nonchalant as she and her sister posed against Gipsy's gigantic foot, their eyes hidden behind dark aviator sunglasses.

He smiled, remembering with some frustration how Tony had hardly looked at the report, simply pointing to the picture and saying, _She's the one, see? I like her style, very Top Gun. Find her, let's bring her in._

The elevator dinged at its destination and Peter walked toward the sound of the helicopter's deafening rotors, still whirring away as it powered down.

"Welcome to New York!" Tony called out over the noise. "We call this the Shatterdome."

Peter watched as Michelle stepped out of the helicopter, her head ducked as she followed Tony, the wavy tendrils of her long hair whipping in the wind. Peter felt his breath catch for a moment; the photographs really didn't do her justice.

At the same time, she wasn't what he expected her to be like. She was wearing a flannel shirt under a loose jacket with jeans and heavy work boots. All the footage he watched had been of her in the Jaegar, or her military mandated psych evaluation sessions, so she had looked polished in her Ranger uniform. _That_ Michelle Jones had been brash and cocky, flagrantly breaching protocol on a whim.

"Michelle, let me introduce you to Peter Parker. He's handling the selection process for your co-pilot."

Peter shook her hand and handed her an umbrella, feeling himself flush slightly at their contact. _Pull it together, Peter, this is ridiculous,_ he scolded himself.

"I studied all of your footage and Chitauri drops, even Nova Scotia," Peter said, by way of an explanation. _Why had he mentioned Nova Scotia?_ "I never really imagined you outside of the suit," he added hurriedly.

Michelle crooked an eyebrow. "Are you imagining me out of my suit now?"

"Yes, I mean no, I uh...," Peter said, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. Dammit. Why was he so flustered? Tony wasn't going to let him live this down for _weeks._

"I'm just messing with you," she admitted, giving him a quirky smile. Peter couldn't help but match it and he felt something surge within him.

He'd read everything published on drift compatibility, but nothing really explained how it _felt_ to drift with someone. But watching Michelle move, the way her eyes met his and how her lip curled as she smiled, he could tell there was something there. A sense of connection that reverberated through him like a pulse, whispering of something he already knew but never acknowledged. He took a breath, unable to tear his eyes away from hers.

"Come on, let's give her the tour," Tony prodded, something unreadable passing over his face. "We've got work to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, leave a comment and kudos!


	2. Chapter 2

Michelle 

Michelle adjusted the bag on her shoulder and looked around the landing pad, still a flurry of activity despite the heavy rain. It didn’t feel different from the launch bays she’d used during her Ranger days, though Tony had insisted that they were in dire straits. It didn’t really matter, she supposed, she hadn’t come here for him.

“So, what’s your story?” Michelle asked Peter, leaning toward him to speak over the sound of the helicopter. “In charge of selecting candidates for the Jaegar program?”

“Peter also headed the Jaegar Restoration Project. I think he secretly runs this place,” Tony called back.

Peter glanced at Tony before meeting Michelle’s eyes and adding, “I’ll be a Jaegar pilot, too. One day.”

He sounded defiant when he said it, and Michelle couldn’t help but be reminded of Gayle’s determination to graduate at the top of her Ranger class. When Gayle decided to do something, it was as good as done, and only the matter of how much time it would take was ever in question.

“Will you be one of the candidates?” Michelle tried to keep her voice neutral. Despite the apprehension she felt at the idea of having someone in her head again, she felt a little thrill at the idea of it being Peter.

“No, not this time,” Tony answered, leading them toward an elevator at the end of the landing pad. He didn’t provide an explanation. Michelle thought it was strange but didn’t press; Tony always did things his own way, but his restraint here gave her pause. The Tony she remembered stepped into a Jaegar and defended the city against Chitauri after Chitauri, all before the modern radiation shields were implemented. He did what needed to be done, whatever the personal cost. She wondered if there was something more to Peter Parker than Stark was letting on.

"So, what was your takeaway about me? From all of your analysis?" Michelle asked, trying to keep her voice level and uninterested, but she couldn't help the feeling that built in her chest. Why did it matter what he thought of her?

The muscles in Peter's jaw clenched and he looked down at the tablet in his hands, as if he were reading off an unfortunate diagnosis. "You’re unpredictable. You prefer to react instead of strategize, which can be effective in combat against a single Chitauri opponent. But you are also reckless, you trust your instincts over mission directives and deviate from standard combat techniques. I’m… worried that your impulsiveness might endanger the mission, unless you are paired with a drift partner who...”

“Peter,” said Tony, his tone firm, “we’ve already talked about this. Enough.”

Peter put his head down, unable to make eye contact with her, and Michelle felt a little winded. Impulsive? Unpredictable? _They_ were the ones who approached her and asked her to come here!

And now Tony’s _protege_ was telling her she would endanger the mission? She could feel her blood boiling, but he’d probably take it as confirmation of his theory if she snapped at him, so she chose the high road.

Michelle waited until Peter looked at her to gauge her reaction. “Someday, when you become a Jaegar pilot, you’ll see what it's like to make a call in the field. Every choice, every move, every moment of hesitation -- they all have consequences. I’m just trying to live with mine.”

That seemed to surprise him, and he looked at her sheepishly, as if searching for something to say. Maybe he was even right about her, reckless and impulsive. That was who she had been -- who _they’d_ been -- when she was piloting Gipsy Danger with Gayle. Was she the same person still? Or had she abandoned herself, run from everything she stood for and took pride in, because of her mistakes?

Peter finally seemed to find his footing. “I didn’t mean…”

“Hold the door, please!”

A man and woman barrelled through the doors, managing to slip inside the elevator just before it closed. The man threw his hood back, splattering rain water on Peter and Michelle, and edged past Tony to get to a large glass tank set against the back wall. “Sorry, coming through, very valuable Chitauri specimen right here, please be careful.”

Michelle wiped the rainwater from her face and glared at the man, but he didn’t notice, having caught sight of Peter instead. “Hey, Peter! I was hoping to see you! Check out this Chitauri I’ve got back here -- it’s just a lymph node, but still totally awesome, of course.”

"Dr. Brant," said the woman, extending her hand to Michelle. "Please excuse my colleague, Dr. Leeds. He's a Chitauri groupie."

"Come on, Betty…"

"I've asked you not to call me by my first name _many times…_ "

"...Just because, unlike most people, I actually want to see a Chitauri _alive,_ that doesn't make me a groupie. Plus it's so weird that you say it like that, we both know that _you know_ they're called Chitaurians."

"Dude," whispered Peter, shaking his head.

Outside the elevator, Tony explained that Dr. Leeds and Dr. Brant were all that remained of his science division. Leeds was a specialist in advanced alien biology, focused on Chitauri physiology, while Brant was a theoretical physicist assigned to understand the interdimensional qualities of the Breach.

"That's the whole team?" Michelle asked, confused. “Didn’t you used to preach, ‘we’ll prevail through research?’ What happened to that?”

“That went out the window when Washington decided it was too expensive to keep winning and downsized our operation in favor of the Wall.” Tony met her eyes, "There’s a lot that’s different this time around, Jones. We aren’t the Army anymore, we’re the Resistance."

Michelle shuddered a little, the desperation of their situation beginning to sink in. "So what's this big plan of yours? What else have we learned about the Breach?"

Tony's smile did little to reassure her. "We'll get to that, but first let me introduce you to the rest of the team. Come on."

* * *

Peter 

Tony led them toward the Shatterdome's massive hangar while Peter followed half a step behind Michelle, close enough to feel near her but not so close that she could sense him watching. He felt like such an idiot. He had meant to say that she should be paired with a drift partner who had _high compatibility_ , a formal military background, and who demonstrated discipline in combat. In other words, _himself_.

But he'd said it all wrong and now she probably hated him. And Tony wasn't going to budge on letting him pilot a Jaegar. He had worked so hard for this, trained _so hard,_ and now it was all slipping between his fingers.

If this mission went well, they could close the Breach _forever_ . And that was a good thing, Peter _knew_ that was a good thing, but then he would never pilot a Jaegar -- never even _set foot_ inside one while it was powered up. Never experience the drift.

He wasn't so selfish as to wish for the mission to fail, just so he could become a Ranger. But a question nagged at the back of his mind; if he never even fought, what was the point of all of it?

Had he wasted all the time that May and Ben had bought for him, when they lost their lives? Let their deaths go unanswered? All he had were his memories, and their names carved on some forgotten monument off the expressway in New Queens. What had he done to earn their sacrifice?

Maybe Tony was right, maybe he was obsessed with revenge.

"Hey, you alright there?" asked Michelle, her eyes narrow and inquisitive. "Off in the drift?"

Peter felt the heat rise in his face. "Something like that." Maybe she didn't hate him after all?

When they reached the hangar, Michelle looked around with a certain fondness, a soft smile playing across her features.

"It's been a long time since I've been in one of these." She gripped the edge of her duffel, adjusting it on her shoulder as she spun to take in the Shatterdome. "Jaegar program doesn't look too underfunded from here, Tony. I'm beginning to think you just begged me to come back because you enjoy my company."

"You're not that naive, Jones." Tony waved his hand toward the cavernous launching bays, all but three empty. "Relics of an earlier era. We haven't had a full bay in over two years, haven't had this place more than half full since last Christmas."

Peter didn't say anything, but he thought it was actually much worse than that -- the other two bays in North America had shuttered, and the Cardiff bay had been destroyed less than twenty-four hours ago. Only Reykjavik could actively launch a Jaegar, but Winter Patriot had been recalled to New York for Tony's grand plan, so it stood empty. Three bullets in the chamber… four if he counted Gipsy. Peter shuddered; he couldn't think too hard on it or the sense of despair that soon followed would be overwhelming.

"Getting the chills from being in my presence, Parker? Don't worry, I'm used to it."

Flash. Peter exhaled heavily; he was hoping to avoid seeing Flash before the trials, or, well, ever.

"Flash Thompson and Brad Davis," introduced Tony, pointing out the Rangers. "They're running point on the mission, piloting Disco Romeo. Fastest Jaegar ever built."

"And the worst Jaegar name ever," Peter muttered, feeling a pulse of excitement when he heard Michelle snort.

"Aw, don't be jealous, Parker, I’m sure I’ll find time to mention how polished you kept Disco when they interview me after I close the Breach," Flash laughed. He was always the first to laugh at his own jokes.

Michelle turned back to Tony, spreading her arms wide. "They’re running point on _what_ , Tony? I still don't know what I'm doing here."

While Tony explained his plan, Peter watched Brad, his eyes intent on Michelle as he sidled over. He'd been dismissive of them at first, always considering himself the most interesting person in the room -- which seemed to be the common ground for Disco Romeo's pilots, but Michelle had caught his eye. It wasn't hard for Peter to guess at which pilot considered themselves 'Romeo'. Actually, he decided, both of them probably considered themselves Romeo.

"Brad Davis, Rangers First Division," he introduced himself, extending his hand to Michelle. "I wish I could join you in the ring tomorrow, see if we have any… compatibility, but someone has to protect New York. Of course, there are other ways of testing..."

"Mr. Stark, sir!" Peter shouted. "You know, I think we should show Michelle to her Jaegar. Now. To give her time to adjust."

"Whatever, kid. You go and do that. I've got other 'save the world' type stuff to take care of, so I'll see you two tomorrow, bright and early. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Tony waved as he turned and left, already patching in conference calls and approving schematics before he was out of earshot.

"You know, Michelle," said Brad, standing closer to her than Peter liked, "me and the others were going to crack open a bottle of Jagermeister and trade some war stories. You should come and join us tonight." He turned to Peter, adding, "Rangers only. You understand, right, Parker?"

Peter felt his jaw clench, wishing he could just throw Brad down the stairs, but he was _necessary for the mission_ , as Tony had stressed. _Jagermeister_ , he thought angrily, _what an asshole_.

"As much as I'd love to come," Michelle deadpanned, "I'm afraid I'm not a Ranger either. No co-pilot, no Jaegar, no stripes,” she added, tapping the empty sleeve of her jacket. “Guess Peter and I will have to sit with the lowly civilians for now."

"That suits me fine," Flash said, holding his nose up at them. "I don't want any has been, half-rate, failure of a _Ranger_ messing up _my_ bomb run. Stay out of my way and we won't have a problem. And give Disco a nice polish, won't you, Parker?"

Brad and Flash left, and Peter caught himself grinding his teeth again. _Assholes_. He knew that he could take them in the ring, or even in a Jaegar, if he ever got his shot…

"Come on. You wanted to show me that Jaegar you restored?" Michelle asked, tilting her head toward the maintenance hangar at the end of the bay. "To be honest, I'm a little nervous. I've only ever piloted Gipsy, and it took me a long time to understand all of her quirks."

Peter kept his face neutral as best he could, relishing the chance to share the secret of Gipsy's restoration with Michelle, while the two of them were alone. "You're adaptable, I'm sure you'll be able to handle it."

Michelle exhaled, pulling her jacket tighter around her. "I don't know, it's not just the Jaegar. I only ever drifted with Gayle, and since losing her… I just don't know if I'm ready to open myself like that again, especially to a stranger."

Peter walked beside her, surprised that Michelle Jones _, Ranger,_ was afraid. But maybe that was foolish of him. They had each lost people they loved to the Chitauri, but she’d extinguished her vengeance when she killed Knifehead, alone in a broken Jaegar. Now all she carried with her was her regret and the heavy burden of survival. Was that all he would have left when he got his revenge? Who would he be once he’d accomplished the task that had come to define him?

He pushed those thoughts aside for now, there were more important things to focus on. Like the look on Michelle’s face as he opened the final door and caught sight of Gipsy Danger, fully restored and shining like a crystal under the halogen spotlights.

“Gipsy,” she whispered, picking up her pace as she approached. Michelle brushed the fingers of her outstretched hand against the metal hull of the cockpit, following the maintenance platform that encircled the giant robot. “I never thought I’d see her like this again. She’s as good as new.”

“Better than new,” Peter added, pulling up the newly implemented specs on his tablet. “I had them refit the cockpit with all the latest drift tech we’ve developed, it’s a much lower muscular strain than the Mark III harness and enhances maneuverability.”

Michelle flipped through the specs, letting out a low whistle as she encountered some of his proudest work. “Gipsy’s almost a new girl; faster, stronger, more flexible… and you oversaw all of this? This almost looks like a full re-work of the chassis, from the ground up.”

“And designed most of it, along with Mr. Stark,” Peter said, swelling with pride at how impressed she sounded. “We wanted to enhance Gipsy Danger so that her strengths more closely matched yours.”

It was all Peter’s idea, though it had started small. After watching hours and hours of footage, he had realized that the preferred combat styles of the Jones sisters overtaxed some of Gipsy’s systems while underutilizing others. Years of mechanical logs confirmed that this uneven strain on the Jaegar had created weak points -- gaps between the intended function of the design and how it was used in the field. Peter had tinkered in piecemeal at first before scrapping the project and deciding to redesign Gypsy from scratch.

“Gipsy’s the only Jaegar designed with her pilot in mind, she’s one of a kind,” Peter said, rapping his knuckles lightly on the hull.

“She was always one of a kind,” Michelle answered fondly. After a few moments, she turned back to him. “And now I’m even more curious about you. Tony’s protege, selecting the class of prospective Rangers, _and_ rebuilding a Jaegar from the ground up? I’m almost afraid to ask what your simulator score is.”

Peter felt the heat rise in his cheeks again, “Fifty-one drops, fifty-one kills,” he managed to say.

“Damn, and you really aren’t going to be in the ring tomorrow? That seems… short-sighted.”

“Mr. Stark has his reasons,” Peter said, remembering their argument from a few days before. Tony had told him he was obsessed with revenge, that he was too consumed by it to enter the drift clean of all emotion. That he would chase the rabbit and drag Michelle down with him. Peter argued that there was no evidence of that and accused Tony of breaking his promise to teach Peter how to pilot a Jaegar and kill Chitauri.

_‘Sorry, kid,’_ Tony had said, his breathing heavy and his face livid, _‘but I’ve got other promises to keep -- like keeping you safe. I promised May I would raise you and protect you, and I’m not about to break that just so you can settle some score.’_

“Well, he must have some pretty good reasons to keep talent like that grounded,” Michelle said, and Peter felt his breath hitch at her words. She handed the tablet back to him and he held it against his chest, feeling his heart beat a steady rhythm that seemed much too loud in his ears. “Have you ever tried to convince him?”

“You have no idea how many times.”

“Maybe you need to be a little more -- what was it? Impulsive and unpredictable? Reckless?” Michelle asked, a satisfied smirk settling in as she needled him. “Improvise, adapt, and overcome, Parker. Want to become a Ranger? You’ve got to start acting like one.”

Maybe she was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a kudos & comment if you enjoyed!
> 
> Next up: Michelle meets the potential recruits, but they better watch out, because she's not going to dial down her moves! :o)
> 
> But when Peter steps in, who will get pinned?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I let myself go a little longer with this chapter... hope you enjoy what I spent it on!

Michelle 

Michelle wasn't due to spar in the Kwoon combat room for another forty-five minutes, but had already slipped on her trainers and was headed for the door. It had been a few years since she had last sparred, and she wanted to stretch and warm up alone so she wouldn't make a fool of herself.

She heard sounds of movement and stopped before she entered, silently frustrated that someone beat her to the mat. Michelle peered her head around the corner -- in case it was Thompson or Davis -- surprised to find Peter training alone.

His movements were fluid and graceful, bursts of power coming suddenly as he pivoted his strong hips. Peter moved with the outer appearance of control, but she could feel the driving fury that he kept restrained, somewhere hidden below the surface.

Michelle knew that hunger, that urgent need to win at all costs. It was funny, she'd hardly felt it during most of her days as a Ranger. Being with Gayle had been the important thing, the rest of it was mostly just a job for her. But when Gayle died, when she'd been ripped from the harness with Michelle still in her mind, it had all snapped into alignment.

Michelle remembered screaming her throat raw as she pushed away the physical pain that threatened to break her, though it was nothing in comparison to the agony that permeated her every thought. She didn't remember most of the fight, once Gayle was gone, and when she'd been brought back to base, no one had said a word about the thirty-two minutes that she had burned in the cockpit. Alone.

Sometimes Michelle wondered what she had become during that time.

But Peter's anger was kept under lock and key, only the barest hint allowed to see the light of day. Michelle watched in fascination as he continued his forms, appreciating his precision -- and the way his sweat illuminated the thick cords of his muscles as he swung the staff with deadly speed.

Abruptly, Peter stopped, his shoulders creeping toward his ears. Had he heard her? Had Michelle been breathing too loudly and creeped him out?

She stepped around the corner, entering the ring before Peter turned and saw her. A little voice inside her reminded her that if they drifted, he would know all of this, but she decided it didn't matter. She'd thought much more embarrassing things about him before.

"I thought you weren't going to be in the ring today?" Michelle asked, hoping Tony had changed his mind. 

"Not today, I just wanted to get in a little workout. Were you, uh, were you watching me?" Peter asked, looking a little nervous.

"Only a little bit," Michelle admitted. "It seemed fair since you'll be watching me all day."

Peter looked surprised, his cheeks reddening slightly, and Michelle quickly corrected herself, "Watching me on the mat today, I mean."

"Yeah, on the mat," Peter said hurriedly. "Of course."

They stood quietly for a few moments, Peter idly twisting the staff in his hands, but it wasn't the uncomfortable silence that Michelle had become accustomed to. There was something soothing about spending time around him, something she wasn't used to feeling with people anymore. Not since Gayle.

Michelle wondered if it had to do with the drift, but since Tony wouldn't show her Peter's compatibility test or let him join the cadets for sparring trials…

"Would you like to spar, before the others arrive?" Michelle asked, nearly tripping over her own words as she rushed to get them out.

"Well, Tony doesn't really…" Peter started, gripping the staff tightly as he eyed the door.

"Not as a trial," Michelle lied, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "I just need to warm up a little, it's been a few years."

"I guess we can spar a little, before the others arrive," Peter allowed, wiping the sweat from his brow and grabbing another staff for Michelle. She stowed her belongings along the far wall and caught the staff when Peter tossed it to her.

The movements were familiar as she tested the balance of her weapon, but her muscles felt rusty, straining slightly as she stretched to regain her range of motion. After a few moments, Michelle squared up against Peter, feeling her breath slow to a calm as she entered her combat state of mind.

Peter watched her, settling into his own stance with his staff raised. Michelle could feel the tension rising inside of her, ready to leap into action at a moment's notice.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," said Tony as he entered the room, tapping the face of his watch, which was probably more expensive than anything Michelle had ever bought. "I actually had my assistant book this room, we've got Ranger trials here in, let me see, fourteen seconds?"

Peter huffed and tossed the staff to one of the entering cadets, picking up his tablet and joining Tony at the head of the ring.

Once the rest of the Ranger-hopefuls had filed into the room, Tony cleared his throat. "Today isn't about winning, it's about compatibility. About finding that sync in the ring, that connection that lets you anticipate the next move." 

He gestured to Peter, who explained the rules of the match, and then the trials began.

Michelle lost the first two points before she found her groove, and then it came naturally, the rhythm of the dance guiding her body's reactions faster than she could think. She scored the next four points in quick succession, defeating Cadet Morales with a lightning-fast sweep.

The next two matches went smoothly, and Michelle was feeling confident in her style again, taking advantage of her long reach and fast reflexes. With each victory, she looked to Tony and Peter, watching as they discussed which candidate to call next.

At first, Michelle thought Peter's scrunched face was just him concentrating, but the more she saw him react, the more she was convinced that he was disappointed about something.

 _'Was it because he wanted to spar with her, and was just frustrated with Tony?'_ she wondered, countering an attack from Cadet Allan and disarming her, four points to one. 

Peter's expression continued to sour, and Michelle began to wonder if it was the cadets' performance that he didn't like. It was true that Michelle hadn't lost more than two points in a single match, and that most points were won after a quick exchange, but that wasn't the cadets' fault -- drift compatibility wasn't a matter of effort.

Michelle felt energized from the sparring, surprised that she didn't feel fatigued from all the combat. But she grew more and more frustrated as Peter huffed after she beat Cadet Stacy four points to one, and later shook his head when she defeated Cadet Moon by four points to two.

"Alright," Michelle said finally, "what's your problem with them?"

"Excuse me?" Peter asked.

"After every fight you're making this face," Michelle said, mimicking his disappointment. "Like you're critical of their performance. Didn't you hand pick the list of cadets?"

"I'm not critical of their performance," Peter answered, clenching his jaw, "I'm critical of yours. You could've taken each of them two moves earlier. You're distracted and leaving openings, taking shortcuts."

There was a murmur from the cadets, and Michelle placed her staff upright on the ground, allowing herself a moment of rest as she leaned against it. 

"You really think so?" she challenged, meeting Peter's eyes.

He met her gaze head on. "I know so."

Michelle looked to Tony, giving her staff a swing before spinning it in her hands. "What do you think Tony? How about we change things up, put Peter in the ring."

Tony's gaze hardened, but Michelle could see that Peter wanted it, his expression pleading as he looked to his mentor.

"That's not going to happen, Ranger. Stick to the cadet list we have, we will only trial candidates with drift compatibility…"

"Which _I_ have, Mr. Stark," Peter interrupted, swiping on his tablet for a few moments before shoving it into Tony's hands.

Tony's expression darkened as he studied whatever Peter had shown him, shaking his head slightly. 

"Who ran this? I never included your profile among the candidate batch," Tony asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"It was the first profile I ran when you put me on the project."

"Kid, it's about more than just test results, it's a physical connection that…" Tony whispered hurriedly, though he was unable to tear his eyes from the screen.

Looking at the way Peter's biceps flexed as he stood his ground, his arms crossed in defiance, Michelle wanted to tell Tony that she was certain there would be a physical connection. 

But she knew his ego was where Tony was most vulnerable, so instead she asked, "What is it? Worried that your best and brightest can't cut it in the ring with me?"

The effect was immediate, and Tony narrowed his eyes at Michelle, cold and calculating. "Fine, but I'm only doing this for the satisfaction of watching him wipe that smirk off your face, Jones."

Peter grabbed a staff of his own, carefully setting his boots alongside Michelle's before stepping into the ring. 

"I hope you paid attention earlier," he said, casually spinning the staff in his hands with practiced ease, "because I've been watching."

"So you have," Michelle answered, arching an eyebrow at him. She felt a rush of satisfaction when he blushed, but he was back to calm and controlled in a moment, his breathing low and balanced.

Peter moved like a panther in the ring, his muscles coiled and itching to pounce but for the strict restraint he kept them under. They circled each other, watching and waiting, and it felt as if the rest of the world faded from the periphery.

Michelle was the first to move, starting with a swift overhead strike, stopping the staff less than an inch from Peter's forehead. He simply stared at her, never dropping his gaze, as if to say he didn't need the point.

"Focus," Michelle chided.

"First point is on me," Peter smiled, sinking into his combat stance, and Michelle felt warmed by his gaze.

After that, he moved quickly, switching between styles as he kept Michelle on her back foot. She circled under his assault, forcing him to keep moving. She could tell Peter was still holding something back, content to test her defenses. For now.

After a quick volley of strikes, Peter managed to slip past her guard and score a point, and shortly after another as he pressed forward aggressively. 

"Two to one," he warned, "better watch it."

But Michelle had been watching him, and she drew him in before tapping into the reserves she had held back. With a quick gambit, she managed to even the score, using her reach to slip past his defenses.

Finally, Michelle could see the cracks in Peter's control, an urgency to win finding its way into his expression as he struck faster and faster.

And that's when she felt it, that unspoken connection that moved quicker than words or thoughts, like her lungs working in seamless harmony. The clack of wooden staff against staff intensified until it was all she knew, drifting into the background like the hum of her breathing.

Michelle tasted the salt on her lips, felt the whirl of the staff and the vibration of its impact. She moved across from Peter, their motions a fluid dance that unfurled outside of time. And Michelle remembered. She remembered what it was like to share her thoughts with someone, to inhabit the same space within their minds, that symbiosis of merging moments and memories.

Finally, Peter managed to score a point against her, and she felt something squirm in the pit of her stomach as she met the darkness in his eyes.

"More control, kid," Tony shouted, from what felt like miles away.

Their next volley lasted even longer before Michelle managed to throw Peter, his chest heaving as Michelle felt nearly intoxicated from his proximity alone.

Their eyes locked and she could feel the hunger in his gaze, setting alight her own desire. She could nearly feel the drift, as if it were something enveloping them, though she knew it wasn't possible without the Jaegar's apparatus.

Michelle found she could almost anticipate his movements, countering and trading strike for strike in an electrified flurry. She flushed with the effort, the ache in her arms and hands almost soothing in its deepness. She remembered what drifting with Gayle had been like, but this was something different, something stronger.

As their bodies pressed against each other, grappling on the mat with their staves disarmed, Michelle fought the craving to surrender to Peter's heady scent. His hands were strong, wrapping tightly around her as she slipped under his shoulder for leverage. He grunted when she wrapped her legs around him, barely managing to break her hold before he twisted away.

When Peter finally pinned her, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips as he pressed himself atop her, Michelle bit her lip and suppressed an urge to moan. She could feel the heat building in her core and knew that her hair must be a wild mess, having come untied as they sparred. He drew back slightly and they watched each other in silence, their breath in sync as he held himself mere inches from her face.

Michelle understood that in that moment, if they were ever to drift, she would give herself to him without thinking. All those years of carefully constructed barriers, everything she had done to run and hide from the gaping wound that was Gayle's absence, gone in an instant. Peter's eyes burned into hers, and she knew that he could feel it, too.

A sharp whistle broke through Michelle's daydream, and the sounds of the combat room came roaring back to life. Cadets cheered as Peter picked himself up, offering Michelle a hand, but Tony didn't share in their enthusiasm.

"I've seen enough," he said, handing the tablet back to Peter.

"Me too," Michelle managed to say as she tried to get her breathing under control. "He's my new co-pilot."

"That's not going to happen, Jones."

"Why not?" she asked, pushing past the warning tone in his voice.

"I don't need to explain myself to you," Tony said, his expression volatile.

Peter turned to Tony, his face still flushed from the effort, "But you made a promise to me, my family…"

"I made other promises, too, promises I can't break. This is _not_ a discussion."

Peter's eyes flashed, and he tossed the tablet back to Tony, turning on his heel and stomping out of the room. Michelle watched as he left, ignoring Ranger Thompson who was leaning against the wall at the back of the room. Thompson simply laughed and blew him a kiss, and Michelle felt the urge to beat him senseless roar within her.

She snapped her head back to Tony, "Sir, Peter's our best shot at…"

"What part of 'this is not up for discussion' did you not understand, Jones? You are not here to question my orders, you relinquished that right when you turned your back on the rest of the program."

Michelle didn't think that was fair, but she knew when Tony wasn't going to be pushed any further. She picked up her things, slipping back into her trainers before returning her silent gaze to Tony.

"You'll be at Gipsy's launch bay in two hours to find out who your new co-pilot will be. Don't be late."

Michelle left the combat room and ignored Thompson's taunting whistle, flipping him off over her shoulder as she walked away. 

What had Peter meant about Tony's promise? Was it something they could leverage to change his mind?

It had been years since she'd shared the drift with someone else, and she knew that if she was ever going to drift again, it had to be with Peter.

* * *

Peter 

Peter flung the door to the barracks open, nearly catching a Jaegar technician in the face as it swung wildly. He muttered an apology and trudged past, but the woman just huffed and shook her head, mumbling something rude about Rangers as she left.

He felt wild and provoked, furious at Tony's backhanded betrayal. He knew this was what Peter wanted, knew how hard he had worked for it, for _years_. Peter slammed his hand against the wall.

Years ago, Tony had promised Peter that he would train him. Teach him to fight the Chitauri so he could avenge Uncle Ben and Aunt May. It was unthinkable that Tony could forget that promise, he had simply chosen not to honor it. Instead, Tony kept his word to May, the ghost of a woman who died when Peter was just a boy.

Peter sighed heavily, finally winding down his frantic energy as he reached the door to his room. He supposed he was being unfair to Tony; wasn't he chasing ghosts of his own? How was he any different?

The sound of jogging footsteps echoed from down the hall, and Peter turned to see Michelle, panting slightly as she gave him a crooked smile.

It hurt more than he thought it would, losing his opportunity to drift with her. He tried to return her smile, but he couldn't hold it, so instead he said, "Thank you, for sticking up for me today with Mr. Stark. It means a lot."

"I just don't understand him -- we're definitely drift compatible. I felt it, and I know you did, too." Michelle threw her hands in the air, exasperated. "We don't have to just obey him, you know? He needs us. This is worth fighting for, I know it is. I know what I felt."

Peter felt like his heart was breaking at the hope in her voice, but he knew Tony had made up his mind, and he was set on whatever course of action he thought was best. 

"Mr. Stark won't budge, he… he has his reasons. I can't fight him on this." Peter leaned against his door and admitted, "But I felt it, too," in little more than a whisper.

He kept his breathing steady, but he wanted to scream and thrash -- he wouldn't, of course, though he wanted it all the same. "I'm sorry, I can't talk about this right now, I just…"

"Need some time alone?" Michelle asked, concern etched in the way her eyes sought his.

Peter nodded and slipped the key into the door, jiggling the handle as he tried to open it. Why couldn't anything go right for him?

"That's my door, actually," Michelle said, something mirthful in her voice.

Peter ducked his head and slipped past her, walking across the hallway to his door, identical to hers. _You're such a mess, Parker, can't even find your own door._ He felt the heat in his cheeks and knew that he was blushing furiously; had he been thinking about her and unconsciously gone to her room instead of his own? Was that the same conclusion she was coming to?

He opened the door to his room -- on the first try, thankfully -- and slipped his boots off, tossing them into a corner. Peter looked at the picture of May and Ben on his bedside table and sighed; _just a little while longer_ , he lied to them in his mind. It would be him next time.

Peter was about to flop onto his bed when he remembered the door was open, and turned to swing it closed. Across the hall, Michelle had slipped her shirt off and tossed it on the floor, revealing a black sports bra underneath.

Peter stared at the toned muscles in her shoulders, thinking of how smooth she had felt when they were pressed together on the mat. He shivered involuntarily; he felt like he'd nearly lost control. And she had invited him to.

Michelle's right shoulder bore scarring where the drivesuit panels had overloaded, searing the outline of the circuits into her flesh. But Peter's eyes soon drifted toward her waist, where her thumbs were now slipping beneath the fabric. She paused for a moment, turning to see Peter from across the hall, and winked.

Peter closed the door and quickly leaned his back against it, fighting the temptation to turn and look through the door's peephole. His heart was beating fast, and a familiar urge coiled in his belly, beginning to snake its way downwards.

 _Keep it together, Parker,_ he scolded himself, collapsing onto his bed. But images of his match with Michelle kept playing through his mind. She was bold and quick, and she adapted well to all the different styles he threw at her. He'd been wrong in his analysis -- underestimated her. Or maybe Michelle had changed in her years since she'd left the Rangers.

Whatever it was, something had happened, when they fought, something he didn't understand but felt with every fiber of his being. It had been like a dream, everything else fading into the background as they focused on each other's movements, trading breath for breath in a rhythmic dance. Was that what it felt like to be in the drift? To breathe the same breaths, and share the same heartbeat?

Michelle had nearly managed to pin him at the end, catching him in a bind for a moment before he escaped, her legs wrapped around him as she tried to grip him in a headlock…

Peter shook his head, feeling the strain in his pants. Seriously? He felt like a teenager again, his brain already fantasizing about the look she'd given him when he pinned her down, her hips straining against him, her panting breath making his heart race…

Peter stood, feeling guilty as he checked that the door was locked before tossing his shirt on the floor and slipping under the sheets. He laid back and closed his eyes, thinking of the way Michelle had looked as she straddled him for a moment while they grappled, her hair flowing free and ringed in light like a halo.

Peter breathed deeply, slipping his hand below the sheets as he imagined her legs wrapped around him again, her eyes dark with desire as she pulled her shirt overhead. Until now he had held off on succumbing to this particular urge, mortified by the possibility of her seeing it in the drift. At least he didn't have to worry about that anymore, he thought ruefully.

His breath came faster now, and the images flickered past with less and less coherence. Michelle was underneath him, pinned against the mat, her hips rolling against his. Her heavy-lidded eyes found his, fluttering closed as her head dipped back, lips parted. His fingers pressed into her hips as she reached up for him, and her hand gripped the back of his neck, her eyes never leaving his.

She panted his name, called to him, begged -- no, _demanded_ \-- more. She told him to let go and lose control, to give it all to her. And Peter...

"Peter!" shouted Tony's voice from outside, a series of loud knocks thudding against the door. "I… uh… I need to talk to you."

"Coming," Peter shouted back. _At least I almost was,_ he thought to himself in frustration. Couldn't Tony just leave him in peace? He stood and yanked a clean shirt on, careful to adjust himself below the waistband, and opened the door.

"What is it, Tony?" Peter said, a little more harshly then he'd meant to.

"Easy, kid, this is an olive branch. I changed my mind."

"About what?" Peter asked, not daring to hope.

"About letting you pilot Gipsy and become a Ranger. Now can I come inside?"

Peter stepped back, reeling from Tony's abrupt aboutface, and the first thing he thought of was what he'd been doing just before Tony arrived. _It'll probably be the first thing she sees in the drift,_ he thought with quiet resignation. Great.

"I thought you'd be more excited." Tony scratched at his goatee briefly, his eyes inquisitive. "What's going on? Weren't you just arguing for this?"

"I am excited. _Of course_ I'm excited, I'm just surprised that you changed your mind." Peter sat on his bed, his pulse burning within him. Peter Parker, Ranger, First Division. Co-pilot of Gipsy Danger with Michelle Jones.

 _Drift partners_ with Michelle Jones.

He felt a smile creep across his face. Soon enough, he'd know whether or not she felt the way he did. He wished there were parts of himself he could close away from her, so she wouldn't have to bear the pain, but he knew that was wrong, despite his good intentions.

The training had been very clear about that: the connection was built by trust and openness, and the strain of the neural load required full cooperation. The better the connection, the stronger the drift.

That was fine with Peter; he didn't think he would have any trouble offering all of himself to her.

"Hey," Tony said, snapping his fingers in Peter's face. "Earth to Petey-o! Are you even listening to me? I'm bearing my soul over here."

"Wha-? Oh! I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, I was thinking about becoming a Ranger, and I got distracted…"

"It's fine, I'm messing with you, kid. You've been slackjaw, staring into space for the last twenty seconds, so I think it's finally starting to sink in."

Tony pulled the chair out from Peter's desk and sat on it backwards, resting his arms across the top. He smiled at Peter, but it felt like resignation, and Peter looked away.

"Want to know what I realized?" Tony asked.

Peter nodded, hearing the somber note in his voice.

"I realized that this mission -- this bomb run, it's our last _real_ shot at beating the Chitauri. If I put anyone else in that Jaegar -- anyone with even a margin less of a fighting chance -- it will be a death sentence to everyone on the planet, including you. You're the best pilot for the mission, and it kills me to admit that."

Peter exhaled, unsure of what to say. Tony didn't often speak so freely about his feelings with Peter, so he knew this was important.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark, I…"

"I can't be out there to protect you," Tony interrupted, as he gripped Peter's shoulder. "So I need you to promise me that you'll take care of yourself and fight with your head, okay? And that you'll do whatever it takes to make it back."

He thought of his Uncle Ben many years ago, proudly bouncing Peter on his knee as a child, telling Peter of the Rangers and their powerful Jaegers, and the great responsibility that came with protecting the world from the Chitauri.

"I promise to take care of myself, and to do whatever I can to make it back," Peter said to Tony. And he meant it, too. _But I also promise that I won't hesitate to do whatever it takes to save everyone else._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want more of that type of (naughty) content? DEMAND IT in the comments below!
> 
> Next chapter: The Drift!


	4. Chapter 4

Michelle 

The fit of the suit was perfect. The layers of contact gel and synaptic processing mesh were cold against her skin until she adjusted to the chill, like sliding into frigid ocean waves in a wetsuit. The battle armor was fused onto her afterward, the technicians flitting around her as they made sure magnetic relays at the joints were communicating with their systems.

It was finally time.

Michelle had to admit that she was nervous. She'd piloted countless times, worn the drivesuit and entered the drift with joyful abandon, but things were different now. What would she see inside the drift? Would she be able to separate her memories from Gayle's? Would she chase the R.A.B.I.T.?

Random Access Brain Impulse Triggers, or drift memories, flowed differently when she was joined to another pilot. The stream became a torrent, and then a flood, until the pilot drowned in an ocean of potential pathways to follow, each of them a memory. An event. A person. Each of them an opportunity to get lost in the endless schema of consciousness, slipping from association to association as reality unraveled.

 _I hope you're ready to have someone else in there,_ Michelle thought, pretending to ask the version of Gayle she thought of as a part of her. But her sister was only a collection of memories now, the afterburn of a bright image on the television screen, faded but for the trick of the eyes. Michelle hoped she was ready.

The steady sound of footsteps followed her up the gangway, the heavy _clunk_ of the boots extra loud as the magnetic soles snapped to the ground. Michelle smiled to herself; it was much easier to walk when the boots were disabled by flipping a switch along the side, the other technicians must've forgotten to mention it.

Michelle knew she should have waited for her co-pilot in the ready room, but she couldn't bring herself to make the effort, despite how rude it felt to walk in alone. She was still disappointed that it wouldn't be Peter joining her in the drift, but Stark had been adamant in his refusal.

"I hope you don't mind if I take this side," Michelle said, checking to see the small adjustments that had been made to Gipsy's harness since it was reconstructed. "My right shoulder is shot."

"It's all yours," said a familiar voice, and Michelle snapped her head around.

Peter.

"What? Nothing to say?" Peter asked, that stupid smile plastered on his face. Michelle can feel her insides flip with joy. "Where's that devastating Michelle Jones trademark comeback?"

"No need. In about five minutes you're going to be in my head. You look good, though." And he did, he really, _really_ did.

Peter smiled again, but this time a little redness crept up the sides of his face. "In the drift, if you see anything, um, embarrassing..."

"Don't worry, what happens in the drift stays in the drift. Your secrets are safe with me."

This seemed to mollify Peter somewhat, and Michelle watched as he shook himself off and climbed into the harness. Four drivesuit technicians hurried into the cockpit, shuffling around as they called out torque projections and acceleration quotients, ensuring that the pilots were each strapped securely into Gipsy's command relays.

"Hey," Michelle called out, testing the mic in her headset. "Remember, don't chase the RABIT. Stay in the drift, the drift is silence. And Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't get cocky." Michelle winked at him and Peter blushed, still visible despite the helmet and contact gel.

"Cocky… yeah, okay, sure."

As Happy counted down until the drift was engaged, Michelle breathed deeply, trying to quiet her nerves as they screamed danger at her. She whispered reminders to herself, aware that they were the same things Gayle had once said.

_The drift was calm, the drift was empty, the drift was silence._

"Drift is a go, Gipsy Danger is online in three… two… one… commencing neural handshake," came Happy's voice, trailing off into silence as Michelle felt the once familiar sensation take hold.

The air in her lungs felt light and insubstantial, rushing out from her in a gasp without sound. It felt as if her vision was vibrating… everything was vibrating, and the smell of ozone filled her nostrils. The muscles in Michelle's jaw clenched and flexed, as if the drift was stretching within her to find the confines of her body, pressing out against tendons and sinew and flesh until it finally collapsed inward and her whole world was swallowed into a single point.

An explosion of color and sound replaced the darkness, and Michelle knew she was through the other side. She exhaled, feeling her lungs work in tandem with Peter's, the images flickering to life as memories swarmed to fill the space allowed them, like water pouring into a vessel.

_Swirling, swirling, swirling..._

Aunt May leaned toward Michelle, a sad smile etched on her face. "We've always been a family," May said, squeezing Michelle's hand, "it's just a smaller one now. You'll never be alone, alright? Not as long as we have each other."

Michelle ran through an empty parking lot, laughing as Gayle whooped from three steps ahead. They turned around in time to see the bottle rocket ignite, errantly spinning until it took off at an angle and ricocheted off the light post a dozen yards away...

Michelle looked at Uncle Ben, his eyes red-rimmed as he struggled through his brother’s eulogy. She felt small and insignificant next to the grief he shared unabashedly, her eyes forced to seek the quiet refuge of the empty coffin, sitting silent at the bottom of the grave. The plane crash had left nothing for her to say goodbye to…

Lights flashed overhead, and Michelle yawned, her brain slowly clicking into overdrive once she realized the Chitauri alarm was sounding. “Ready to bag another kill, sleepyhead? Come on, let’s…” _Not that one not that one not that one,_ she pleaded desperately...

Tony looked down at her, grinning proudly as he ruffled her hair. “I bet you’ll be an engineer someday, kid. I actually studied engineering at MIT, before all of this.” Michelle shook her head, there was only one path forward, she had promised herself she would see it through. Piloting a Jaegar…

The construction paper in her hands sliced with a satisfying sound, her fingers carefully guiding the scissors along the stenciled lines. Maybe if dad knew how hard she had worked on his card, maybe if he knew how hard she was trying, he wouldn't drink so much. Gayle said he was useless and they needed to stick together, but maybe, just maybe, he would change for her…

Michelle padded quietly to the door, making sure that it was locked before throwing her shirt on the floor and slipping into bed. Closing her eyes, she slipped her hand below the sheets, thinking of how they had grappled on the floor. She imagined her own face, hair lit from behind like a glowing halo… _My own face?_ Michelle wondered, now curious. When had Peter been thinking of her? But the current of the drift swept her along...

Happy's voice cut through, snapping her back into the present, “Gipsy Danger, locked and loaded. The drift is aligned and holding strong, can I get a vocal confirm from the crew?”

“Gipsy is a go,” Michelle said, hearing Peter at the same time. 

Her vision swam for a moment, the sensory information flooding her brain as she learned to cope with the data stream. Finally her vision stabilized, if it could be called that. 

The neural handshake that the drift facilitated was more than just the shared consciousness of the pilots and the Jaegar’s system; it was visual data from the eight clusters of cameras mounted around the Jaegar, positioning data from Stark’s satellite network, comm links and vital signs and dozens of other feeds that her mind -- rather, _their_ mind -- categorized and processed in tandem.

Michelle exhaled, and they lifted their arms as one, raising their fists into combat stance. Gipsy responded in kind, almost instantaneously, and the Jaegar moved into position. The comms echoed to life, and Michelle could hear cheering on the other end.

“Bravo, Gipsy, neural connection is looking great. Let’s take her for a spin now…” started Happy, but something tugged at Michelle’s memory, and she turned to face Peter.

“It cut right through the hull!” Michelle watched herself shout, this other version of her wearing the old drivesuit from three years ago. She blinked in confusion at seeing herself… _That’s not right, I was watching from over there, and Gayle was on the far side..._

She blinked and her perspective had switched, Gayle now standing opposite her, shouting, “MJ, only listen to me! You’ve got to listen to…”

Michelle knew it was coming, but it still didn’t prepare her for the shock of watching Gayle pulled from the harness again. The Chitauri’s claw closed around her, the metal tearing in a horrifying screech as pain blossomed in every cell of Michelle’s brain…

With a jolt, she was back in Gipsy’s cockpit, dimly aware of Happy shouting that they’d gone out of alignment. Michelle squared her shoulders, sinking back into the comfortable silence of the drift. “I’m fine, I’m back. I’ve got this.”

“You’re stabilizing, but Peter’s way out of alignment,” Happy called frantically. “He’s starting to chase the RABIT. Michelle, we’ve got to…”

“I know, I know!” She turned back to Peter, now standing with his hands dangling at his sides, motionless.

“Peter, stay in the now, don’t chase the memories. You need to listen to me, stay inside Gipsy, you can’t change the past…”

It was clear that Peter hadn’t heard her, and Michelle yelled louder and louder for him to come back, but it was too late. She felt herself swept up in the wake of the memory, darkness pulling her under like a rip current, her fear like saltwater in her lungs...

A small boy was standing before her, crying as he held his cut knee. _It’s Peter,_ she realized, wishing she could reach out and comfort him.

Michelle could see that they were standing in the ruins of a home, shattered plaster and concrete littering the ground as a fine mist of debris eddied on the wind. There was a squeak of surprise from Peter, and the young boy rushed over to the fallen remains of the house. He fell to his knees, bending over a single, lifeless hand that reached out from the rubble.

Peter clutched at the hand, and Michelle felt her heart break with sorrow. She knew from her neural connection to Peter that this was his Uncle Ben, the man who’d raised Peter after his parents had died.

A sound from further along the house drew Peter’s attention, and his head whipped to the side. He took a shuddering breath and pushed himself up, slipping as he rushed to his Aunt May’s side. Michelle could hear the blood that filled May’s lungs as she struggled to breathe, her coughs added drops of blood to the small pool that formed on the asphalt below her.

“Run, Peter, run… find somewhere to hide,” May begged, but Peter clutched her tightly and shook his head, muttering ‘no-no-no-no’ as he sobbed.

“Peter… be strong for me now… you need to find somewhere…” But before May could finish, a piercing screech ripped through the air, nearly knocking Peter off balance. Michelle looked up and saw an enormous Chitauri -- Onibaba, she remembered -- as it towered above them.

Further down the block, a transformer blew, and Onibaba swiveled around to face them. May’s pleas were now frantic, her voice quivering as she yelled for him to run. When Peter saw it, he took off running down the block as fast as he could.

Onibaba’s pincers swiped in vicious arcs, battling military helicopters and fighter jets, laying devastation in its wake. Convinced that the Chitauri was chasing him, Peter ran for his life, his heart hammering away like a hummingbird’s. It wasn’t difficult for Michelle to keep up with him; the poor boy had to clamber over rubble and slipped in the puddles and spray from the broken water mains that spilled onto the street.

When he found a narrow alley between two row houses, Peter tried to hop the fence, but his shirt got caught on the top edge and he tumbled painfully to the ground. He grunted this time, adrenaline and fear fueling him beyond pain, and wiped at his split lip.

Above them, the walls exploded as Onibaba’s pincers sheared off the top half of the surrounding buildings, and Peter cowered against the corner of the wall, seeking shelter. Michelle could hear his frightened whimpering as he hid, her own heart racing even though she knew it was just a memory.

Brick sprayed the air like shrapnel, and Peter fell again, scraping his hands and knees. Michelle felt it herself, like the ghost of a cut that played across her skin. Above her, Onibaba was in a fury, trampling buildings as it fought with a Jaegar. _That’s the SI Mark I,_ she realized, _famously known as The Iron Man._

The very first Jaegar. _Tony Stark’s_ Jaegar.

_Oh._

Peter slowly stood up, a chunk of brick clutched white-knuckled in his hand, defiant. Michelle could see the hunger in his eyes as he watched the Iron Man battle Onibaba, dealing brutal blow after brutal blow to the monstrous Chitauri.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Michelle could hear someone shouting as alarms blared. It was probably to do with the attack, she reasoned, engrossed in the memory as the Chitauri was finally defeated.

The images began to fade, the connection to the drift slowly dwindling until Michelle realized she was standing in Gipsy’s cockpit, all signals gone dark. “Happy? Tony?” she called into the comms, but there was only silence.

Michelle turned to ask Peter what he thought, but he was slumped in his harness, staring blankly ahead. She rushed to unclip herself, frustrated at the intricacies of the drivesuit that slowed her down. 

Peter was still conscious, though just barely. His eyes only followed Michelle’s finger with the vaguest hint of recognition and he made little effort to disconnect himself from the harness.

“Come on, Peter, come back to the here and now. Come back to me,” she whispered, unlatching his helmet and sliding it off. His chest rose and fell with a more comfortable reliability, and Michelle felt herself begin to calm, pressing her forehead to his.

Someone in the bridge must have pulled the plug on them during the test. She hadn’t been able to keep Peter from chasing his memory, and who knew what else had happened when she was swept along with him.

After a few minutes of cradling Peter’s head, Jaegar techs arrived and evacuated them from Gipsy. It was a long walk back to the bridge, and Tony was radiating with cold fury by the time they arrived, grounding them from duty until further notice.

He had special words for Peter, droning on about how he'd been too focused on revenge and living in the past. How Peter wasn't ready.

"Tony, don't be unreasonable!" Michelle countered, finally losing her cool. "If you're going to be mad at anyone, it should be me. I'm the one who came out of alignment first, I…"

"And when are you going to learn to listen, Ms. Jones?" Tony snapped, pacing. "I'm the CO for this operation, I hand-picked each of you for this mission; if something goes wrong, that's on me. And I'm not going to jeopardize everyone's safety so you two can play at being heroes."

Michelle and Peter walked back to their rooms in silence. The elation of that morning had disappeared entirely, replaced by the heavy burden of failure. What now? 

There had been good moments, but Michelle wasn't sure she was ready to talk about the bad ones yet. She wanted nothing more than to lay in her bunk, her face buried in a pillow.

Unfortunately, she wasn't so lucky.

"What the hell was that, Parker? This is why we don't let just anyone in a Jaegar, you were about to vaporize the whole Shatterdome during a routine drift test!"

"Shut the hell up, Thompson," Michelle growled, unable to put up with his antagonism today.

"And you! A disgrace to the Ranger name!" exclaimed Flash, rounding on her.

"Maybe Michelle just needs a stronger partner," said Brad, giving her a knowing look. "Someone who knows how to take control."

"Oh yeah?" growled Peter, stepping into Brad's face. Though still shaken, his anger made him stand taller and clench his fists. "Gonna teach me how to pilot Gipsy, tough guy? I know every inch of that Jaegar in and out--"

"I don't mean controlling the _suit_ ," replied Brad, shaking his head patronizingly at Peter. "I know you haven't had much experience, Peter, so I'll give you some free advice. A strong woman like Michelle?" Brad's eyes dart towards her and he flashes her a little side grin. "She needs an even stronger guy, someone who can tell her what to do and how to do it, in and out of the drift. Not some pushover who can't even get through a test drop. She deserves better than that, don't you think?"

Michelle wasn't sure if it was what he said, or the way he smirked like he was letting them all in on a little secret, but before she could think she turned and took a swing with everything she had. Her fist connected solidly with Brad's jaw, and the satisfaction from that -- and the surprised look on his face -- was enough to justify any consequences.

Brad spun on the spot, colliding with the wall behind him and stumbling to the ground. “Shit! I-I think I chipped my tooth! You’re a fucking animal, Jones!”

"What the hell, man, we're like, important!" Flash sputtered, stepping back from the scene. "Tony's going to be so pissed at you guys."

"I'm going to be pissed about what… ah, of course. So, our pilots have nothing better to do than start a brawl in the barracks?" Tony shook his head, "I leave for five minutes…"

"Those two started it," Flash blurted out.

"Christ, Thompson, what are you, twelve? You're an active duty Ranger, start acting like one. Pick Davis up and get to your side of the compound, you're on alert for activity in the Breach."

Michelle moved toward her door, but Tony rounded on them, glaring. "And you two? I want you the hell out of my sight. Dis- _fucking_ -missed."

* * *

Peter 

The tray in Peter’s hands felt cold, the food on his plate looked bland and didn’t smell of anything in particular. Not that he could smell anything other than the drivesuit’s contact gel anymore. He’d blown his nose maybe fifty times and it still felt slimy and unfamiliar. Maybe it was all in his head.

Peter made his way into the mess hall, the din of conversation that droned throughout falling into an awkward silence as people began to notice him.

Right, of course. He was the big screw-up now.

Peter heaved a sigh, why couldn't anything go right? Just for once? Why couldn't he have what he wanted, like everyone else seemed to have?

But heads swiveled in the opposite direction, too, and Peter saw Michelle enter the mess from across the hall. They locked eyes for a moment, the silence palpable around them, and Michelle jerked her head to the side, as if to say ‘let’s get out of here’.

Peter smiled and headed for the door, maybe not _everything_ was bad.

Michelle led the way to Gipsy Danger, finding an empty spot on the maintenance platform where they could watch the crew work on the Jaegar.

Peter sat on the edge, letting his legs dangle like Michelle did, though it made his stomach a little sick to think about the drop below them. Michelle didn't seem bothered by it, but then of course she wasn't, she'd spent all that time working on top of the Wall project.

It was strange, having experienced the drift with another person. Peter was still having trouble trying to articulate it in his mind. He'd always wondered if what he felt and experienced was like everyone else, and that had always been an unanswerable question.

But not anymore, not with the drift.

Now he knew all sorts of things about Michelle. He knew that she used to go by 'MJ' back in highschool, that she was a talented artist -- even though she rarely showed anyone, and what her first kiss had felt like. What other firsts had felt like.

 _Why am I such a creep?_ Peter thought with dismay. _I wasn't even looking for those memories specifically! It just happened!_

"Hey," Michelle asked, her voice so low and tender that it surprised Peter. "Are you doing alright? After today, I mean? I know that was a lot to go through, reliving the experience…"

Michelle trailed off, but Peter understood. He'd seen what happened to Gayle, a flash of Michelle's worst moment, a memory he now shared. The fear and anguish had felt real, if a little distant, and he was sure that she had felt the same during his memory.

"Yeah, I'm alright," Peter assured her, slowly picking at his food. "I just wish I hadn't screwed everything up. I've had a long time to deal with that memory, but I still fell for it. Tony always said I would."

"Well, it's his fault for always bringing it up, then. Reinforcing negatives outcomes," Michelle joked. "But really, today was on me. I have more experience, I should never have let us get knocked out of alignment. That wasn't your fault."

Peter knew that she meant it, but he didn't believe it. She had pulled herself back into alignment, and he'd almost vaporized the bridge and every other Jaegar pilot because he couldn't keep his head on straight.

They ate in silence, but Peter felt comfortable in her companionship; just being near her, sharing something as simple as lunch, meant more than he could describe.

He wanted to tell her this, but he didn't know how. In a way, he envied the simplicity of the drift. It removed all the barriers, all the anxiety and fear, until there was only openness. Only trust and vulnerability.

"You were only eighteen when you fought your first Chitauri," Peter said, still surprised. "I guess I'd always thought that you and Gayle were closer in age, but she had six years on you."

"Yeah, I only trained for a year before my first deployment, had to drop out of highschool to do it. Gayle was the Ranger Academy's rising star, but our drift was stronger than the rest of the cadets, so I got fast-tracked."

Peter shook his head, "But you were still a kid. And you were so furious about missing prom."

Michelle blushed a little, "It seemed like a big deal at the time. I guess I was trying to maintain some sense of normalcy. You saw after that, didn't you?"

Peter nodded, knowing she meant the night she lost her virginity. For her, it had been an act of defiance against being swept up into the whole world of Jaegars and Rangers, something she could control and decide for herself. Michelle had never wanted to be a soldier.

"My first drift was only a day and a half after that," Michelle continued. "The moment we dropped in, I _knew_ that Gayle had seen it, but of course there was nothing I could do to prevent that. After we finished the calibration session, she looked at me and said, _'I'm not going to have to beat this Harry guy up, am I?_ ' I couldn't meet her eyes for a week."

Peter could certainly relate. He'd seen the memory of himself lying in his bed and thinking of Michelle, fantasizing about the way her legs had felt wrapped around him as they'd sparred. She had to know all of it by now, and he could feel color creeping up into his cheeks.

Michelle seemed to notice, leaning over toward him so that their shoulders touched. "Hey, nothing to feel ashamed of. The sparring was hot for me, too."

Peter looked up, "Wait, really? You, too?" He had hoped, of course, but he wasn't familiar enough with the drift to be certain those thoughts weren't his own projections.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip a little as her eyes roved over him. "I like the way you see me. The way I look and sound, what you think of me. It's better than who I really am."

"I've always been prized for my objectivity, Ms. Jones," Peter said, pretending to be offended. "It's exactly who you are, you're just much more critical of yourself than anyone else."

Michelle huffed and reached across with her fork, spearing a piece of cantaloupe that Peter had been avoiding and plopping it into her mouth. "Alright, enough of that. What do you want to do for the rest of the day now that we're grounded from duty?"

"Well, I don't want to lose my edge," Peter tested, unable to meet her eyes, "I could always have another go in the sparring ring."

Michelle gave him a wicked grin, "I do like a man who's into foreplay."

Peter swallowed thickly, feeling as if his throat had suddenly become parched. Today was _not_ going how he had expected it to go, but he certainly wasn't complaining about it.

"Yes, okay. I mean, we could go now… unless you preferred later... Or even…" Peter struggled to say, but his words were cut short by the blaring of an alarm that echoed throughout the compound.

"Activity in the Breach," they each said in surprise.

Peter jumped to his feet, ready to spring into action before he realized there was nowhere to go. Gipsy was grounded until further notice; the other Jaegars would be answering the call.

"Activity in the Breach, all active Rangers proceed to your respective loading bays for deployment. Repeat -- activity in the Breach, we've got two Chitauri signatures."

 _Two? Dr. Brant was right, after all,_ Peter realized, nervously checking his watch for alerts. "We've got to get to the bridge," he said, swiping Tony's prompt away. "Ready?"

Michelle was leaning against the railing, looking a little pale as she took deep breaths. "Yeah, I'll be right behind you, I just need a minute."

Peter took a step closer and put his hand on her shoulder, realizing she hadn't seen a Chitauri since Nova Scotia. "I'll wait, okay? You're not alone anymore."

Michelle looked at him, her eyes searching his for a few moments before she began to calm. "Not alone, not as long as we have each other."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the phrase 'just a memory' in this chapter and I didn't even highlight it or write it in ridiculous font! You guys should be super proud of me.
> 
> Next chapter, our intrepid heroes face a Chitauri!


	5. Chapter 5

Michelle 

"Shit!" Happy yanked his headset off, nearly throwing it at the wall. "Otachi has some sort of acid gland, that spit is eating straight through Gamma Hulk's hull!"

Michelle could hear the screams amid the static over the comms, and her whole body froze. It was going to happen again.

It was happening again, right now.

"Disco Romeo, do you copy? What's your status?" Tony shouted over the chatter.

Brad's voice answered, "Moving at full speed to intercept -- we can't raise Winter Patriot on the comms, they're… oh god…"

"Otachi's tail-claw just ripped out their cockpit…" shouted Flash, but Michelle could see it all on the massive display.

Another Chitauri, nicknamed Leatherback, had jumped from below the waves and was savaging Gamma Hulk, Banner and Romanoff's Jaegar. She could hear the water pouring into the reactor from the onboard mics, but the pilots had already gone silent.

Disco Romeo emptied it's first payload round, firing heavy rockets that burst against Leatherback's tough skin, and the Chitauri roared in fury as it turned to face them.

Tony snapped around, leveling his eyes at Michelle and Peter. "I need you two in the cockpit now -- otherwise this is an extinction event, go go go!" He shouted, waving them down the hall.

Peter was still staring at the screen in shock, or perhaps mourning for the pilots he'd trained with for years. Michelle grabbed his hand and gave him a firm pull, and Peter met her eyes.

"We can do this," Michelle told him, though she wasn't so sure herself. He nodded eagerly, and they set off down the hall at a run, aiming for the maintenance elevators that would take them to the drivesuit room.

Michelle could hear Happy shouting over the central comms, putting Gipsy into motion for immediate deployment. Crew members sprinted around them as they finally made it to the right floor, everyone giving them a wide berth.

All Michelle could think about was that two -- _two --_ category four Chitauri were squaring off against Disco Romeo right then. The longer it took them to deploy, the more likely they would be fighting both Chitauri alone.

No Jaegar had ever fought two Chitauri at once.

The technicians in the drivesuit room were working double time, and as anxious as Michelle was to get out there, it was almost too soon when they were signalling her to go.

"Disco's down, EMP blast --" came Tony's voice as they boarded Gipsy, the panels crackling to life as the Jaegar booted up.

"You okay?" Michelle asked Peter. His face was set in grim determination as he stared at the screens, numbers running frantically as systems powered to full operational capacity.

He gave her a nod and she understood. This was his chance, the first taste of vengeance. This time, there wouldn't be a mistake. "I'm ready. Silent in the drift."

Michelle took a deep breath and punched in her own chain of processes, already releasing the control cables as the last of the techs ran back onto the maintenance platform outside.

"Establishing neural bridge in three… two… one…"

Michelle held her breath and quieted her mind, and the familiar pull came, like being drawn underwater by a rip current. The flashes of Gayle were there, phantoms whispering of death and destruction to come. But what other choice did she have?

It was like Tony had said; _would you rather die alone, or in a Jaegar?_

This time, when they slipped into the drift, the flow of memories was seamless. The intensity of the moment faded into the background, and all Michelle was left with was a sense of relief. To be here again, to be with him.

Peter.

They breathed as one again, the snapshots of a hundred summer nights and fireflies whirring together in that breath, making her whole. Michelle felt the darkness pull back, and then they were one.

The data streams flooded in, but Michelle and Peter were prepared, and she could feel their awareness expand to encompass video feeds and satellites and analytics.

"That EMP fried Disco, but they're still alive. We won't be able to get them online for another hour -- Leatherback and Otachi are both heading for shore on separate trajectories. Intercept at will, Gipsy," Happy said plainly, though Michelle knew it was all he could do to keep his voice level. Or maybe Peter knew?

Once the fighting started, Peter and Michelle moved in perfect unison, thinking jointly with one mind. It was different than with Gayle, she had to admit. Her older sister had always taken lead while Michelle followed, like a dance. But with Peter there wasn't a leader or follower, they were just one.

The Chitauri dealt them heavy blows, but they were quicker and deadlier, and Michelle made sure to empty their entire plasma clip into Leatherback’s side to make sure it was dead once it was down. She took a deep breath and got her bearings, realizing that the fight had brought them all the way to Jamaica Bay, leaving a swath of destruction through the Rockaways. The battle had come frighteningly close to the Shatterdome, perched on the old site where JFK International had once stood.

Had the Chitauri known to come after their headquarters?

Was this a coordinated attack?

Michelle felt the rage curdle in her belly, the satisfaction of defeating Leatherback overshadowed by the terror at realizing that Otachi had entered the city unchallenged. Peter’s nerves were firing all over, snippets of the destruction of the Battle of New York whizzing by in his periphery, but this time he ignored them.

“Tony, where’s the Chitauri? Is it in the city?” Peter shouted, venting the Jaegar’s heat sinks while they waited for positioning data.

“That EMP fried half our relays, too. I can’t get visual on it. Last positioning data we had put it on course for Elmhurst,” Happy replied, his voice teetering on the edge of frantic. “Great work on Leatherback, you two, but this next one is nasty, you can’t take your eyes off the tail or the acid glands. We’ve got aerial support inbound, but we need you to draw it out of the city and buy us some time to make the assist.”

“No,” Peter said, his voice dark and cold with fury, “it came to Queens, this one is ours.”

“Head for the Bone Market then, I’ve got a hunch,” Tony called over the comms.

“The Bone Market?” Michelle asked. It had been a long time since she’d seen Queens, not since before the attack.

“Onibaba’s corpse,” Peter answered, tightening his fist.

"I sent Dr. Leeds there to get more Chitauri samples. He figured out they're hive-minded clones when he drifted with a part of one yesterday…" Tony said over the static.

"He did _what?!?_ " Michelle and Peter asked in unison.

"I'll tell you about it later -- go and get that Chitauri out of my city!"

Once Gipsy was running at full speed, they turned to follow the path of destruction laid out before them by Otachi. Michelle could feel the rapid pace of Peter's heart; this was his home, and to see it attacked again… it had already been personal for him, but now his emotions were drenched in fury, and Michelle felt the rage fuel her.

Peter was focused and silent in the drift, but his memories and mental schema still fired in response to his thoughts, like a second database for Michelle to access. _The Bone Market…_ she wondered, and images jumped to her mind as if they were her own memories. Gigantic bones bisecting Roosevelt Avenue, the 7 line rebuilt through the ribcage as a patchwork of stairs and shipping containers filled out the rest of the market space.

Peter's memories tasted of momos and lamb over rice, or sweet corn arepas and agua fresca. There were flashes of Ned laughing as he pointed out Chitauri powders and remedies, or corner bodegas and sizzling street carts in the hot summer sun. Michelle remembered walking with her mother there years ago, when it had simply been a busy intersection and bus station.

_Onibaba changed everything,_ she felt from Peter's mind, _but we rebuilt. It's still a community that helps each other. It's still home._

When they caught up to Otachi, it appeared to be trying to dig through the concrete, located a few blocks from the market. The Chitauri heard them and let out an ungodly screech before turning and heading for the East River.

Otachi was much faster than Leatherback, testing Gipsy's reflexes with bursts of acid and rapid attacks before slipping out of range again. So far, they had managed to dodge the acid attacks, but that powerful tail was giving them trouble.

"We need to neutralize that acid, it's melting right through buildings!" Peter shouted as another spray liquified a corner of an office tower.

"On it!" Michelle swung around, spinning away again as Otachi lunged for them. She reached lightning-fast to get the Chitauri in a headlock, and Peter snapped their free arm up to catch the tail-claw as it attacked their cockpit. The claw snapped hungrily as the Chitauri fought them, the heavy impact of each attempt sending vibrations through Gipsy’s outer hull.

Moving quicker than words, Michelle vented their coolant, flash-freezing the Chitauri's tail as Peter twisted it viciously, shattering the frozen end. Otachi screamed, and Michelle reached in to grab the tongue and acid sack, ripping and pulling as the Chitauri flailed violently.

"Acid neutralized," Michelle confirmed, and Otachi tried to roar in fury, choking on blue blood.

The Chitauri launched itself at them, trying to slash and pummel as Gipsy crashed backwards into an office building, glass and steel exploding below. Peter and Michelle lifted their arms to block, a flash of memory filling the split second before impact, and Michelle imagined a young Peter blocking a blow during training.

_Good,_ Tony had cheered, _now counter with the uppercut…_

Together, Peter and Michelle swung with all their might, igniting Gipsy's elbow rocket in a brutal blow to the Chitauri. Otachi stumbled off balance and crouched low.

"It's readying for a lunge," Peter said, and they slid back into a defensive stance, poised for an attack.

But Otachi didn't attack, it flung its arms out wide and shook, spreading enormous wings. Stepping atop a low building, the Chitauri launched into the air, dropping debris from above.

Michelle's instincts kicked in, and she raised their arms to shield, imagining Gayle striking from overhead while sparring.

"It's getting away!" Happy's voice crackled over the comms. "It's headed straight for Manhattan, but aerial support is still five minutes out!"

"You're not getting away from me!" Peter shouted, punching a quick set of commands on his console as he aimed their left arm at the fleeing Chitauri.

There was a jolt of force as Peter fired, an electrified webbing spiraling out from Gipsy's fist as it arced toward Otachi. With a satisfying yank, the web hit it's target, and Peter pulled back on the line to ensnare the Chitauri. It crashed into the East River, the impact causing a tidal wave that rolled out toward sea, crashing like thunder.

Gipsy waded through the water, carefully circling as the Chitauri thrashed against the webbing, but it held firm. They reached down and grabbed a massive barge, pulling it free of its moorings as they lifted it overhead. There was a blink of Peter's aunt struggling under broken cement, of his uncle's lifeless hand and the look on Gayle's face when she'd been pulled from the cockpit. And then they slammed the barge into the Chitauri's head with all the power they could muster.

"All Chitauri signatures down," Happy's voice said over the comms, strangely subdued.

"Good work, Gipsy. We need you back at base ASAP," Tony added.

Michelle could feel the coiled aggression still coursing through Peter's veins, and he let out a shaky breath. 

"So," Michelle said, "you added a webbing gun to Gipsy?"

She caught a brief smile from the corner of her eye, and she could hear the pleased tone in his voice, "There's actually another surprise that I need to put the finishing touches on."

"Oooo," Michelle added, Peter's memories of the modifications drifting before her. "You really like that spider motif, don't you?"

Peter just smiled, "Everyone's got something they're into."

* * *

Peter 

In the decontamination shower, Peter could still feel his heart hammering at a rapid-fire pace, and he wondered when his nerves would finally relax. His hands shook as he scrubbed at the contact gel, relishing the feeling of cleanliness that followed as he breathed in the steam-filled air. He watched the swirling soap suds as they circled the drain, the sound filling his ears as his mind drifted, flashes of the battle resurfacing in a confusing array of perspectives. 

As exhausted as he was, Peter doubted he’d be able to get any sleep tonight, and it was no wonder. In a matter of a few hours, they’d lost two of the four remaining Jaegars. What did that mean for the bomb run?

What did that mean for earth’s survival?

As Peter slipped on his civilian clothes, he wondered how Michelle was handling everything. She was a veteran when it came to fighting the Chitauri, but after today, he couldn’t imagine ever getting used to this. Maybe that was just how everyone felt, at first.

Peter met Michelle back in the drivesuit room, and she gave him a reassuring smile, reaching out and squeezing his hand tightly. “You did really well today.”

“So did you.”

The words were simple, but Peter could feel the heaviness behind them. He felt the urge to hug her, to tell her that he missed her, but it felt ridiculous. She was right here in front of him, just out of reach, her hair still damp from the shower. What did it mean to miss someone who wasn’t gone? Did he miss her thoughts and memories, their shared presence in the drift? Was it the feeling of wholeness that came from her, filling the empty spaces of his mind?

“Ready to face them?” Michelle asked, tossing her towel aside.

Peter chuckled, “As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

Once they left the drivesuit room, Peter and Michelle were greeted by a chorus of cheers and whoops from the assembled Shatterdome crews. Tony managed to push his way to the front, and he wrapped Peter in a fierce hug.

"I'm so proud of you, kid, you did real good out there. Saved a lot of lives today." Tony beamed at him, and Peter tried to return the intensity of his grip, but it felt forced. There were a lot of lives he hadn’t saved, too, but that seemed to have been forgotten in the rush to congratulate him.

Tony let the celebration continue for a little while longer, but Peter didn't feel like joining in. He felt hollow. Had his desire for vengeance been what filled the empty spaces? Or was it normal to feel like his mind was too quiet, now that he’d spent time in the drift? He'd have to ask Michelle about it later.

"Alright, settle down crew. Happy reset the… reset the…" Tony struggled, and Peter turned in time to see him collapse.

Peter was dimly aware of people around him, probably medics trying to get to Tony's spasming form, he thought distantly, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the look of fear in Tony’s eyes. Peter felt his body being tugged backwards and away from Tony, and wanted to scream, _Why isn't anyone helping him?_

"We've got this," Happy said to someone nearby. "Take Peter out of here and get some rest -- we need you on alert if there is any activity in the Breach.”

Michelle led Peter aside, cradling his face in her hands once they were out of the crowd of people. “Hey, they’ve got this, okay? Why don’t you come with me?”

Peter followed Michelle, the image of Tony’s face as he struggled imprinted on his mind. He knew that Tony had heart issues; a miniature arc reactor that Tony himself had designed was implanted into his chest to keep his heart running smoothly. Could they even replace it if it wasn’t working? Who else but Tony could pull it off?

Peter’s mind was churning with anxiety by the time they got back to their bunks, though this time he remembered which door was his.

“Hey, want to talk a bit? I don’t think I could fall asleep if I tried,” Michelle asked, her voice soft and hopeful.

Peter nodded, “I’d like that.”

She took a seat at her desk, and Peter sat atop her bed, his nervousness about Tony slowly replaced by his nervousness about being alone with Michelle.

It seemed silly, but even though he hadn't spent long in the drift, he already missed the feeling of connection and wholeness that it brought. In the drift, he didn't have to worry about how to phrase something properly or if his meaning was understood, the thought was shared instantly with Michelle. But here, in the quiet of her room, he suddenly found himself at a loss for what to say.

It must have been obvious to her, because she reached out and put her hand over his, quieting his fidgeting. "How are you feeling, Peter?”

He shrugged, trying to compose his thoughts. "I don't know. I spent years training for this moment -- and I'm glad I did -- but I guess I thought I’d feel different. Like I'd accomplished something important."

Peter stood, unable to contain the nervous energy still coursing through his veins. "Don't get me wrong, I know what we did was important, but I thought maybe, after fighting a Chitauri…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"That you'd feel closure? For your aunt and uncle?"

Peter nodded. "Instead I just feel hollow. Empty. Logically, I knew it wouldn't bring them back or change what happened, I just wanted it to bring me peace."

Michelle smiled a world-weary grin, "Vengeance is the easy part, it comes with its own purpose. But coping doesn't have an expiration date. It's a constant struggle, and the purpose we need to find has to come from outside that. I don't think I really understood that until I came here. I was always too busy running away."

"So, one day I'll figure it out?" Peter asked. "Is that when it stops being hard?"

"I don't know if it ever stops, but think about what we did today, about the lives you saved. Maybe you can't bring May and Ben back, but you can prevent it from happening to others. And that doesn't just change their lives, but everyone else that they touch."

"That's a noble thought," Peter chuckled, "but all I was ever interested in was revenge."

Michelle shook her head, "That's not true. You know what I saw in that memory, when Tony rescued you?”

Peter shrugged, staring blankly at his hands.

“A boy who made a promise to stand up and protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. It wasn’t about revenge, it was about making sure it didn’t happen again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of hurt comfort for you :)
> 
> Can you guess Peter's other Spider-Mod to Gipsy Danger?
> 
> Next chapter - to the Breach!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: major character death

Michelle 

Michelle lay quietly, staring at the ceiling as the minutes ticked slowly by, her chest rising and falling with a constant rhythm. Peter snored quietly beside her, having fallen asleep as they talked into the night.

She had curled around him, sharing the closeness that was both intimately personal, and yet terribly lonely, compared to the drift. The physical confines of their bodies kept them separated, though the warmth radiating off Peter's back satisfied her desperate need to be close to him.

For now.

Would it be strange to turn and hold him as he slept? To run her fingers through his hair and breathe in his scent? Michelle wanted to nuzzle into his neck, to wake him and tell him what she was feeling, but it was too much to disturb his peaceful slumber.

Did other drift pilots feel the same feelings when they drifted, or was this something more?

It was different with Gayle, obviously. She was Michelle's sister; their drift was deeply personal, but somehow it felt like an extension of their childhood. It reminded her of shared nights whispering secrets under the covers, or Gayle reading books to her by flashlight while Michelle cuddled close as a small child, sharing in the joys and fears of the intrepid adventurers or noble dragonslayers. Maybe it was because so many of the memories had been her own, simply from another perspective?

And yet, looking at Peter, she knew that their connection was deeper.

She supposed it mattered little now. Michelle had no doubt that the bomb run was going to be a suicide mission -- it had sounded like one from the start, but with two Jaegars down and Tony collapsing in the middle of a crowd, she'd resigned herself to that reality.

Selfishly, she wished she could just shut out the world and stay here with Peter, forever. Or that they had met in some other lifetime, just two people, without the fate of the world on their shoulders. Would they have fallen in love? Would they have made a life together?

Even though she hadn't known him for long, she knew that she would fall for him in a heartbeat. She already had, Michelle realized, but that truth was bittersweet. What were the chances that they would both live to see tomorrow?

Was it better to say something? Or would she be protecting him if she kept it a secret, at least until they were in the drift? Could she even keep a secret from Peter, or would the words be spelled across her face, her traitorous heart beating out it's rhythm for him?

Michelle was spared the trouble of having to decide as the room's comm buzzed to life. She leapt out of bed to avoid waking Peter and kept her voice low as she answered.

"Yeah?"

 _"Jones, where the hell is the kid? I've been buzzing him for five minutes! Can you go wake him up? We need you two suited and on the bridge in twenty,"_ came Tony's voice over the line.

"Sure, we'll be there," Michelle answered, exhaling deeply as she released the comm switch, something heavy settling in her chest.

Peter still slept soundly, his mouth turned down in the hint of a frown as he clutched a pillow tightly. She wished she could turn back the clock, watching again as the lines of his face slowly came into focus as her eyes adjusted to the low light. She supposed it wasn't going to get any easier

"Hey, Peter? We've got to get suited," she explained, nudging him awake as she knelt beside him. He made tired sounds as he stretched, turning his face into the pillow and away from the light.

"Suits?" Peter mumbled through his grogginess.

"Tony just buzzed, we've got to meet him on the bridge. I think we're preparing for the run."

"Tony's alright?" Peter asked, jerking awake. "What else did he say? Did he sound healthy?"

Michelle shrugged. "He just said to suit up and get to the bridge."

Peter nodded, his eyes falling on Michelle. He seemed to realize where he was at last, a look of panic stealing across his face.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep here. I guess I didn't realize I was so tired, the drift really takes a lot out of you…" he said, scratching at the back of his neck.

"Hey," MJ interrupted, giving him a cheeky smile, "don't worry, dork. I liked it."

Peter blushed, and stood up to stretch, a thin line of his stomach peeking out from below his shirt. "I guess we'd better get going then?"

Michelle threw Gayle's old jacket over her shoulders and slipped into her boots, "Lead the way, Ranger."

Peter stared at the jacket for a moment before meeting Michelle's eyes, but he didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

When they reached the Shatterdome, it was buzzing with activity, crews sprinting back and forth as they brought the two remaining Jaegars into position for launch.

 _'It must be happening soon,'_ Michelle thought, anxiety beginning to pool in her gut. It would be their last stand. They had to strike before another Chitauri -- or more -- came through the Breach. Dr. Brant had predicted accelerating activity, and it wouldn't be long before they would be completely overwhelmed.

Michelle tried not to make eye contact with anyone as they left their rooms, knowing that they held the crew's lives in their hands. Would she see hope in their faces, and feel like she had betrayed them? Or would she see despair, and feel it reflected in her own heart?

"Hey," Peter said, reaching out to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. "We'll be okay, we're in this together, right?"

Michelle could only nod.

On the bridge, Tony stood tall in an older model drivesuit, the red and gold still polished to a shine. "Bit tighter around the middle than I remember, but _Iron Man_ is back in action."

“Mr. Stark…” Peter said, his eyes wide in disbelief as he stared at Tony. “Why are you suited up? What’s going on?”

“Thompson broke his arm trying to shoot a flare at Leatherback after the pulse fried Disco's controls. He can't pilot for the bomb run, so we need a substitute."

"Hey, I _did_ shoot Leatherback in the face with a flare, I didn't just _try,_ " Flash chimed in, joining them on the bridge with Brad in tow.

"And what the hell did that do for anyone?" Tony snapped before turning to Brad. "Didn't I tell you to _suit up_ and meet me on the bridge?"

"I don't get what's going on here," Brad interrupted. "Am I supposed to pilot Disco Romeo alone? It doesn't matter how good of a pilot I am, I can't do this without a co-pilot."

Tony put his hand over his face. "We'll be co-piloting Disco Romeo -- now get your ass down to the drivesuit room."

"We don't even know if we have drift compatibility…" Brad started.

"You probably don't see it when you look at me now, but I used to be a spoiled, self-centered prick once, too. Follow my lead and I'll get us through this."

Once Brad had left, Tony ventured over, talking to Peter quietly, "I know you're worried, but everything is going to be fine, kid," Tony assured him. "I've got you protecting me out there."

"But Mr. Stark," Peter interrupted, "the doctors said if you pilot again, your heart…”

Tony put his hand behind Peter's neck, and leaned in close to whisper. Michelle let them have their space, knowing what this meant for Peter.

Stark taking Thompson's place at the last moment wasn't a good sign -- he probably hadn't piloted in fifteen or twenty years -- and things had looked grim even before that. Michelle glanced at Peter, his jaw set in determination. At least she would be able to drift with him again.

Wasn't that worth the risk, in the end?

* * *

Peter 

“What the hell is going on?” shouted Brad through the comms. “They’re just sitting there, like they’re waiting for something. They can’t know about the plan, can they?”

“Happy -- patch the lab in, get me Brant and Leeds, now!”

“They went with the dispatch to the kill site, they haven’t come back yet,” Happy answered. “I’ll get someone on it, but you’ve got trouble headed your way, Tony. Movement in the Breach -- I’ll get you a reading.”

Peter watched the two Chitauri -- codenamed Raiju and Scunner -- as they perched on either side of the Breach, holding their position. They floated silently, near the ocean floor, their gaze unwavering as they watched the Jaegars.

They looked streamlined for the water with strong fins, their bodies covered in dark scales like some bizarre chimera of a shark and a crocodile. Gipsy felt clumsy next to them, moving slowly against the immense pressure of the ocean.

Could they be guarding the Breach? It seemed absurd, but Peter had read Ned’s report about his ‘experiment’ drifting with a preserved section of a Chitauri’s brain, so Peter expected his definition of ‘absurd’ was overdue for an update. According to Ned, the Chitauri were a hive-minded species. Had they managed to see the details of the plan during the drift, like when he shared memories with Michelle? If the connection went both ways, then the Chitauri already knew what Ned knew.

 _‘Murphy’s law,’_ Michelle thought, and Peter immediately understood. Whatever could go wrong, did go wrong.

The Chitauri knew they were coming.

“You’re not going to like this,” announced Happy, “I’ve never… Tony, it’s a Category Five. Codename Leviathan.”

The plasma that shimmered at the edge of the rift erupted in brilliant light, as if some giant hand had taken a welding torch to it. The space around the rift seemed to pulse with energy, and Peter couldn’t help but watch in fascination as a portal opened somewhere within the Breach, a gaping maw that fell into another dimension. Although it was ringed in plasma, the portal itself cast no light.

From it swam a giant Chitauri, nearly larger by half than any Peter had ever seen before and almost twice as big as their Jaegar. Its roar shook the water around Gipsy Danger, and, with terrifying speed, all three Chitauri attacked.

While Leviathan went for Disco Romeo, the other two moved to flank Gipsy from either side.

 _‘It’s now or never,’_ Peter thought, and he prayed that Happy’s crew had installed his designs correctly, and began punching in the commands.

Through the drift, he could feel Michelle tense beside him, readying for the fight to begin. Gipsy crouched along with them, backing up against a flat section of the continental shelf near Babylon Canyon. Off of Gipsy’s back, eight rods of steel-obsidian alloy extended in fluid motion, each joint bending forward as the next section was reached. Peter could feel the smirk on Michelle’s face as she realized what he was doing.

“Iron spider engaged, all lights are green,” Peter called out, refocusing on the Chitauri now converging on them. “We’ve got to keep them off-balance, otherwise they’ll pin us against the rock.”

“Working on it,” answered Michelle, and Peter saw a glimpse of her memory flit through his mind, the wisp playing out like a phantom in his field of view.

He watched as Michelle stood firm while two teenagers charged her, her back nearly pressed flat against a wall. The memory of Michelle stepped back, planting her foot firm against the wall and launched herself at one attacker, rolling until she had the boy pinned on the concrete. And in that moment, Peter knew what to do.

They stepped back, planting Gipsy’s foot hard against the canyon wall, and launched toward the closest Chitauri, Raiju. Peter fired the elbow rocket on one side, using the momentum to spin them past Raiju’s gnashing teeth and claws, and locked the Chitauri in a firm grip.

The reinforced ‘spider legs’ fell upon the Chitauri, stabbing and cutting with a furious intensity as it’s hardened hide put Gipsy’s blades to the test. Each spider leg had been sharpened to a point with painstaking precision, tested against the toughest materials found on the planet. Raiju screamed and thrashed, but Gipsy held firm until the water was muddied with blue blood.

There was a heavy impact as the second Chitauri, Scunner, slammed into them, trying to free Raiju from Gipsy’s grasp. Peter could hear shouting over the comms, but he couldn’t distinguish any words, his mind too occupied with the shrill ringing of Gipsy’s alarms as they tumbled across the ocean floor.

“Get it to the vent!” Michelle shouted, and Peter knew that she meant the hydrothermal vent that pulsed with heat nearby, a red glow in the periphery of his thermal imaging. They held firm to Raiju, trying to keep the thrashing Chitauri between them and Scunner, but it was too quick for the Jaegar’s reflexes and Peter and Michelle lost their grip. They managed to get their hands up in time to catch Scunner’s attack as it barreled into them, but the momentum sent them both tumbling over the vent.

Gipsy’s alarms blared again from the heat, indicating heavy damage to their left leg, and they twisted desperately to force Scunner to the floor. The Chitauri growled a deep, guttural sound and spun, throwing Gipsy off its feet. For a moment, Peter felt a flash of vertigo through the drift, and the Jaegar smashed into a rocky outcrop, stones pulverized in an instant.

“Hell yeah!” shouted Brad over the comms, and there was a cheer from Happy’s line as well.

“What’s going on over there?” Peter yelled, trying to right Gipsy before the Chitauri recovered. Their left leg was operating at thirty-five percent capacity now, and Peter could only hope that Disco Romeo was faring better.

“Direct hit with sting blades,” Tony called back, “this son-of-a-bitch will be drowning in blue in no time. Hold out a little longer, kid, we’ll come to you when we…”

But Tony’s words were cut off by Leviathan’s piercing cry. Both Raiju and Scunner turned toward the Cat 5, ignoring Gipsy as Peter and Michelle struggled to compensate for their damaged leg.

 _‘Leviathan is calling for them,’_ Peter realized, and Scunner launched forward in pursuit and out of Gipsy's reach. They still stood between Raiju and Disco Romeo, and they held their ground as the Chitauri charged, raising their plasma cannon.

 _‘Come on, come on!’_ thought Peter as Raiju sped toward them at breakneck speed, the plasma cannon charging for use. The Chitauri opened its mouth wide, flashing jaws ringed in monstrous teeth as it clamped around Gipsy’s arm, trying to swallow it whole.

Michelle and Peter screamed, the jagged teeth rending into Gipsy’s metal and sending brilliant flashes of pain across the neural bridge. They fired the plasma cannon as the momentum from Raiju pushed Gipsy back, and their weakened leg buckled under the strain as it snagged on a fissure in the ocean floor. Raiju tried to twist and spin, attempting to tear their arm off, but the iron spider legs converged on it, piercing deep through the Chitauri’s skull.

Finally, Raiju breathed its last, and they pulled what remained of their arm from its mouth.

“Mayday, mayday!” Brad shouted over the comms, his words barely audible over the screech of metal on the other end. “Multiple fractures detected, life-support is redlining and the outer armor’s been breached!”

“We’re coming to you, Disco, just hold on!” Peter called out, bile rising in his gut as the data on Disco Romeo’s damage came flooding in. Step after excruciating step, Peter and Michelle tried to pull the Jaegar toward Brad and Tony, but the fractured leg couldn’t support their weight. They worked with the iron spider legs in tandem, trying to reach Disco as best they could, but in the back of their minds they both knew it wouldn’t be enough.

Tony and Brad managed to slice Scunner along the side, earning them a temporary respite as the Chitauri pulled back to regroup, but the damage had been done.

“Tony, what the hell are you doing?” asked Happy, something heavy in his voice that sent Peter’s panic into overdrive.

“Hold on, Mr. Stark, I’m coming for you. Just a little longer, I…”

“That’s a negative, Gipsy, keep your distance. Get the hell out of blast radius, now!”

“Blast radius… Tony, no!”

“We don’t have a choice -- water is pouring into the missile bays, we’re about to go critical!”

“But I’m supposed to protect you,” Peter answered, and, try as he might, he couldn’t keep the fear from his voice. “We need you to finish the mission, I need you…”

“Chitauri are converging on your position, Disco…” warned Happy, his own voice wavering.

“You’ve got it all wrong, Peter. You’ve never needed me -- I needed you. For a long time.” Alarms beeped in the background as Tony began the detonation sequence for the nuclear warhead strapped to Disco’s back. “You were the only thing that kept me going after I lost Rhodey, the only thing I’ve been living for ever since. This was always a one-way mission for me.”

“But what are we supposed to do without you? What am I supposed to do?”

“Chitauri impact in fifteen seconds…”

“Finish the mission. I know you can do it -- Gipsy’s arc reactor has a manual override. Send it down the Breach and get out of there. Blow those bastards to hell for me, kid.”

There was a pause over the comms, and Peter could hear his own heart hammering as he watched the Chitauri converge on Brad and Tony’s Jaegar.

“I love you, Peter.”

“I love you, too,” Peter answered, the words heavy in his throat, as if saying them meant it was over.

And then Tony detonated the charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom goes the dynamite! Y'all mad at me?


	7. Chapter 7

Michelle 

“All Chitauri signatures down,” Happy said, his voice soft amid the ringing silence.

“Let’s finish this.” Peter spoke calmly, but Michelle could feel the torrent of rage that ripped through him. His heart was an open wound, writhing and raw and demanding furious vengeance.

If only she could reach out and hold him, comfort him through his pain. But wasn’t that exactly what she was doing? Sharing the burden with him, connected in the drift?

A memory of Peter’s flashed through Michelle's mind, triggered by Peter's grief.

_A very young Peter stood beside his aunt, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks as they visited his parents’ graves. He'd never known them, not really, but the memory of their loss still ate at him._

_At Peter's father’s grave, Uncle Ben knelt down and wept, placing his palm against the headstone. Ben's grief was strong and frightening to Peter -- how could he comfort his uncle? How could he help? He asked his aunt, keeping his voice low._

_Aunt May squeezed Peter’s hand tightly, leaning in close as she whispered, "We can support each other and show each other grace, especially when things feel too difficult. Sometimes helping someone is meeting them more than halfway."_

Michelle took a deep breath and steeled herself, ignoring the flash of pain as she brought Gipsy to stand. Beside her, Peter followed suit, his breathing ragged with effort.

“Gipsy! Peter!” came the voice of Dr. Leeds over the comms.

“Ned?”

“The Breach isn’t going to let the Jaegar through, it needs to read a Chitauri signature before it will open.”

“What? But the Chitauri are all down, no signatures active…”

“Will a dead one work?” Michelle asked, locating the nearest Chitauri, Raiju, on the ocean floor.

“Theoretically -- it’s the same DNA, of course, so the Breach might read that as a Chitauri and let you pass. You’ll have to test the theory,” answered Dr. Brant. Her voice wavered on the other end, “The-the-the information from the drift… I can’t tell for certain, but if you dragged it over…”

“We’re on it,” Michelle answered, and they struggled to drag the Chitauri’s corpse behind Gipsy. It was slow going with the fractured leg, but the iron spider-legs held firm as they made their way toward the Breach. They were nearly there when the comms crackled to life again.

“Gipsy, Leviathan's signature is active again -- you’ve got a live Chitauri down there!”

They dropped hold of the corpse, watching carefully as the massive Leviathan began to stir at the edge of the Breach. Could they even defeat a Category 5 on their own, as damaged as they were?

 _‘We don’t need to defeat it,’_ Peter reminded her through the drift, a cold fury resolving in his chest. _‘We just need to get through the Breach.’_

They were close enough, too. All they needed was one burst of speed, one clear shot at Leviathan to send it tumbling into the Breach -- and Gipsy's arc reactor core along with it.

This had always been a suicide mission, but if Michelle was going to die, she was going to finish the damn job while doing so. "Full thrusters ahead on my mark, three… two… one… Now!"

Michelle was thrown back in the harness as Gipsy blasted forward, barreling at full speed toward the Chitauri, only to be swung violently in the opposite direction when they made impact. The Chitauri screeched as it tried to wriggle free of their grasp, but the spider-legs held firm.

The onset of vertigo came quickly, but Michelle had expected it, the bated breath before the plunge.

As they passed the edge of the Breach, time and space warped around Michelle, the blaring sirens and chatter of the Shatterdome cut away in an instant. It was only her and Peter now.

"Rupture to life support," Peter called out, "we've got to do something about those talons or we aren't going to have time to set the reactor off!"

"Is there anything else in here that I don't know about?"

"No -- the reactor is the last thing we've got, but maybe I could… "

"Do it!"

"Reactor discharge at twenty percent, single pulse -- Go!"

The lights flickered for a moment inside Gipsy Danger, but Michelle caught the flash of the pulse beam as it fired from the reactor, vaporizing a hole through Leviathan's chest. The talons that had gripped and torn at the Jaegar fell silent, and they were left to drift down the neck of the Breach in relative silence.

Peter sighed, and Michelle could feel his resignation and fatigue, the sorrow that waited just beyond the surface for the chance to grieve. "Michelle, I… I need to tell you something."

But she already knew. He had thought of the few moments they had shared, curled quietly against each other, sharing the silence of their mingled breaths. Peter thought of the way she'd looked when she stepped into the landing pad not so long ago, the look she'd given him when they sparred, the shared space of the drift that wove them together into one.

"I wish we had more time…" Peter managed to say, his breath coming heavy.

"We still can. Set the reactor, I'll call up the pods, we can do this, Peter."

But Peter didn't move, his head slowly drooping forward against the harness. So many alarms were blaring that it took a few precious seconds to realize what had happened.

"Shit shit shit…" Michelle muttered, disengaging from her harness to drop onto the cockpit floor. She disconnected her oxygen feed, tossing Peter's damaged feed aside and connecting hers to his suit. She wouldn't have long, but it would be enough. She hoped.

Michelle punched in the commands with shaking fingers, setting Peter's escape pod into sequence before turning to the arc reactor. This was a new addition to Gipsy, styled after Tony's own heart device and replacing Gipsy's old nuclear core. Errors signals sounded as Michelle worked, requiring a manual override from the console in the hull below.

 _'Damn it, Stark, why does everything have to be so hard? Why not put the switch in the freaking cockpit!'_ Michelle fumed, kicking open the trapdoor that led down into Gipsy's chest.

The pathways were narrow and without guardrails, but Michelle had spent years clamoring over I-beams and concrete pylons, so they posed little danger to her. She slipped across the hull with angry efficiency, forcing her mind to focus on the next step to avoid the crushing despair and loneliness.

She could do this.

She had to do this. There was no one else, and Peter needed her.

Michelle could feel the shortness of breath setting in as she struggled to climb into her harness, and she resisted the urge to grab at the neck of her suit as her lungs began to plead for air. The sound of the reactor countdown droned in the background, likely about to render her little escape mission obsolete.

She tried to calm her mind and slow her heart, to savor each breath until she could hardly stand it, and as the escape pod shot upward from Gipsy's cockpit, Michelle imagined her body drifting back and back on cold waves, until it was slowly swallowed in the darkness.

* * *

Peter

Peter took a deep breath, and his lungs tingled with the salty brine of sea water. Waves lapped at the sides of his escape pod, a constant rhythm that was well suited to the vast and featureless blue horizon.

He was still wearing his drivesuit, which confirmed -- as far as he was concerned -- that he was still alive. The soreness in his muscles and throbbing in his head certainly felt real enough.

The sound of distant helicopter rotors brought Peter back to the moment at hand, and the more pressing questions of where the hell was he and what the hell had happened?

The last thing he could remember was the weight that pressed on his chest in the crushing depths, and thoughts of dying. His last thoughts before passing out had been that it was worth it, just to know her, but that he wished they could have had more time.

Where was Michelle?

Peter scanned the water; how far behind could she be? Had she finished the mission? 

Had she survived?

The urge to dive back into the ocean and try to swim to her was nearly overwhelming, but he knew there was nothing he could do now but wait.

The green sea dye that his pod expended muddied the water, making it difficult to see anything below the surface. Every moment waiting was an eternity, every hint of bubbles or foam brought his heart surging into overdrive.

He was in the water the moment her pod surfaced, swimming against the heavy weight of the drivesuit to get to Michelle.

Her pod wasn't opening -- why wasn't it opening?

Peter clambered to the top, yanking at the manual release latch until he thought his arms would burst. The pod opened and air rushed in, and he could see the blue of hypoxia in her cheeks. He yanked off her helmet, calling to her, crying for her, whatever else he could do to summon her back.

Not her, too, not after everything else. Why was he always the one left behind? Forced to live on with just a memory for comfort, forced to find another way forward.

And then Michelle was coughing, her arms squeezing him back as she managed to sit up in the pod.

"Little tight," she choked out, and Peter released her.

"Sorry, I thought I'd lost you, too."

"Did it work? The manual override was two floors down, whoever designed that nonsense…"

"Oh, that was me," Peter answered, blushing. "I had to make room for the iron spider-legs. I didn't think we would have to use it."

"Fair enough. I suppose those were worth the climb."

Peter sat facing her in the pod, overwhelmed by her presence and the desire to pull her to him and never let go. She had to know how she made him feel, didn't she? After all that time in the drift, the line between them blended and faded until he wasn't quite sure who he was without her.

"You've got a funny look on your face, dork. Care to explain?" Michelle asked, her lips quirked in the hint of a smile.

"Weren't you just in my head?"

"Yeah, but I want to hear it out loud."

"How about I do you one better?" Peter asked, and he leaned in to kiss Michelle.

Her lips were soft, but she met him hungrily, and Peter's heart soared. He'd never expected to find this -- to find _her_ \-- in the drift, but there wasn't a hint of surprise on Michelle's face, and he could tell by the way that she melted into him that she had wanted this, too.

He craved her closeness, longing to shed the drivesuit and hold her tightly to him, pressing his forehead to hers. Of course, nothing would be close enough -- not after the drift, but he was willing to spend the rest of his life trying, as long as it was with her.

"I miss you," Michelle whispered after a shuddering breath. "But I like this, too."

Peter leaned into her hand as she held his cheek, letting all the fear and anxiety drain from him as he gazed into her eyes.

They'd made it, they'd actually made it.

They held each other as they drifted in the vastness of the ocean, refusing to be separated even when the helicopters arrived and hauled them on board.

How could he be separate from her, now that he had her? Together, they could face anything.

And he was never going to let go.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter coincides with Spideychelle Week's 2nd Day: Soulmates - and what's more soulmate than sharing your mind with someone in the drift?
> 
> Content warning: There's some sexiness toward the end but I kept it classy

Michelle 

The memorial service for those they'd lost in the battle against the Chitauri was a somber affair, and Michelle stayed by Peter's side as he placed his wreath on the marble plinth. Peter's eyes were red, but he was still looking better than he had since their return to the Shatterdome three days prior. He reached down and squeezed Michelle's hand, and she squeezed back, trying to channel everything she was feeling through the physical connection. It was no substitute for the drift, but if she could provide any support to Peter, she would.

Once Peter had finished, Michelle placed her own wreath on the growing pile, kneeling as Peter had. She had known Tony for years -- they weren't close, not like he'd been with Peter, but this was about more than Tony and the other pilots. Michelle let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. In a way, this memorial would represent her sister's sacrifice, too.

She had missed Gayle's funeral while in the hospital, but it wouldn't have mattered. Michelle couldn't face it; it took her three months before she could visit the empty grave, and even then it had been difficult. The place where Gayle's mind had dwelt had been cleaved from her own, and every nerve had burned with the knowledge of Gayle's absence.

Piloting Gipsy after Gayle died nearly destroyed Michelle; the drift had been like an endless hall of mirrors, her reflections shouting that she was _alone alone alone_ as the memory of Gayle's last moments threatened to take control. It was only the pain in her shoulder and the static in her ear that had kept her from 'chasing the RABIT'.

But this time, Peter survived. And the future looked… hopeful. Was she becoming an optimist? 

Hours later, Michelle floated in a comfortable haze at Peter's side as they crowded into a corner booth at some bar across the street from the Shatterdome, a bottle of whiskey aiding in the collective catharsis. She leaned into Peter's shoulder, basking in his warm flesh and heady scent, and cherished the memory of curling around him in her bed, blanketed by darkness as their hearts beat in time.

Across from them, Flash took a swig from the bottle before launching into another of his stories, this one about him and Brad while they trained together in Amsterdam before they moved on to Lisbon for deployment. Michelle hadn’t been a fan of Brad’s -- nor his partner, for that matter -- but the way Flash spoke of him struck a chord with her.

Everyone's eyes were red-ringed by the time Michelle finished the last of the whiskey, and the group went their separate ways. Flash hugged Peter goodbye before he headed to bed, nearly sending them both to the floor as he stumbled.

Michelle and Peter were the last to leave the bar, along with Drs. Leeds and Brant, who'd been whispering to each other all night.

"There's a celebration of your victory going on down in the mess," Dr. Leeds said, throwing his arm over Peter's shoulder as they headed for the elevator back to the Shatterdome’s barracks. "They pulled the tables aside and hooked some music up to the loudspeakers. Come dance with Betty and me!"

"It's _Doctor_ ," Betty tried to whisper, giggling and a little drunk.

"Fine, _Dr._ Betty thinks you two should come party with us. Not to brag, but it's my playlist, so you already know it's good."

" _Dr. Betty,_ " snorted Dr. Brant, shaking her head.

"I don't know," Peter shrugged, scratching the back of his neck as he looked to Michelle.

"He makes a convincing case," she answered, adding in a whisper, " _and_ I want to know when those two got so chummy. They were nearly in a shouting match when I first met them."

Leeds was right about the music -- even Peter got past his hesitancy and cut some moves out on the dance floor. Michelle moved with him, their eyes locking as the bass pulsed in their bones and sweat trickled down her neck, the feeling of being with Peter vibrating through her.

Dancing wasn't unlike the drift; the beat was a steady rhythm that directed their limbs and hips, their bodies merging and flowing in harmony as they spun across the floor. Peter was better than he gave himself credit for, which seemed to be a theme with him, but Michelle understood his propensity to downplay his abilities. Gayle used to tell her she did the same.

"Thanks for convincing me to come out here," Peter told her above the music, "I think I needed this."

"I think I needed this, too."

"Oh my god, just kiss already!" Betty -- who was currently only answering to Dr. Betty -- yelled as she threw her arms around the two of them. "You've been orbiting each other all night, closer and closer, and I'm tired of waiting. You’re already past the event horizon of the black hole, just submit to physics!"

"Babe, I loved your analogy, but you can't just make people kiss like that," Ned managed as he tried to peel Betty off them, spilling his drink down the back of Peter's shirt.

"Sure I can," Betty said, turning back to him and clasping his face between her hands as she kissed him.

"Wait -- when did _this_ happen?" Peter asked, trying to wipe his shirt with a napkin as he gestured to Bed and Betty.

“Oh please, Petey, don't act so surprised.” Betty wrapped her arms around Ned’s neck, swaying slightly off beat. “We've drifted together now. What's more intimate than sharing a mind with another person?”

"Another person _and_ an alien hive mind," Ned added, but Betty just waved him off.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you two haven't hooked up yet. The drift is like an aphrodisiac…"

"Alright," Peter interrupted, a blush creeping up his neck as he took Michelle's hand. "I think I've had enough dancing. Want to take a walk? Maybe somewhere quieter?"

"Lead the way."

Michelle was quiet as they walked, content to feel Peter's hand in hers as their fingers intertwined. Their footsteps echoed as they reached Gipsy's hangar, the space feeling cavernous with the Jaegar's absence.

"Are you alright, Peter?"

He sighed, leaning heavily against the guardrail. "I suppose. It's strange, though, isn't it? We were inside each other's minds just a few days ago, and now that I'm back to being me, I don't know what to say. It all came so easily before. It’s like I left all my notes in your brain."

"That’s okay, you don't need to say anything." She spread her fingers and traced them along his lower back, feeling the heat radiate from him.

"I know, but I want to. I want to tell you how I feel every time I think about you. And now I keep thinking about what Ned and Betty were saying, I guess what I'm trying to say is…"

Instead of waiting for him to finish, Michelle leaned forward and kissed him, feeling him melt into her lips as she ran her hands along his back and tangled them in his hair.

Peter returned her fervor, all hesitation fading away as he wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss. She grabbed him by the back of his neck, holding him close to her as her other hand found his broad chest.

"Your shirt's still got… drink spilled down the back," Michelle managed between kisses. "You should probably get a fresh one…"

“Yeah, very unprofessional of me.”

“Extremely,” Michelle confirmed.

Peter's eyes met hers, dark with desire. "I guess we'd better get going, then."

* * *

Peter

Peter kissed Michelle with everything he had, focusing on her lips and the hunger in her eyes, wanting to get lost in her forever. Every moment they drew apart felt like torture, his body rebelling as their lips would separate for a shaking breath, only to fall back into each other with a renewed vigor.

Had he even remembered to call the elevator? Was that minutes ago? Hours?

“Hey -- are you two getting on? Not to… interrupt…” someone asked, and Peter and Michelle slipped inside the elevator without looking at who’d spoken, nearly tripping over the gap between the doors.

They managed to get off on the right floor, but Peter hardly cared where they ended up. Just being with Michelle was more than enough -- overwhelming, even -- and he didn’t care who knew. He _wanted_ everyone to know.

They broke apart for a moment, Michelle leaning heavily against the wall beside Peter, and laughter erupting between them. She ran her hand over his chest and nuzzled into his neck, planting kisses from his ear to his collarbone.

“Hey,” she said, pulling away for a second, “what’s going through that head of yours?”

Peter caught the twinkle in her eye and felt his stomach flip. “I don’t know, Jones, I bet you’ve got a pretty good idea. I’ve bet you’ve got _lots_ of good ideas.”

Michelle pushed his chest playfully, her fingers leaving trails of fire down his skin. “Shut up, dork. Come with me.”

In Michelle’s bedroom, with the lights turned low, Peter watched her undress, his heart beating like a jackhammer in his chest. She was so beautiful; her skin shimmered with their sweat as she joined him on the bed, her eyes burning bright as he slipped her hair behind her ear. 

Her weight was a comfort as she climbed atop him, the moments slipping and blending along with his senses as she reached for him and called his name. And when he sank into her, Michelle’s eyes were a window to her mind, so open and inviting, and Peter could swear that they were in the drift. Between them, a thousand unspoken whispers flowed in the wake of their passion, a thousand promises and proclamations that would lose their meaning if said aloud. He worshipped the skin on her throat, her chest, her stomach, floating in the sea of her until he’d nearly come undone.

“It’s never been like… I’ve never felt like…” Michelle struggled to say, their breathing coming hard as they moved together, hearts racing in tandem.

“Me neither,” Peter answered, his words lost against her lips. He would do anything for her, he would face it all again, just to have this moment. Just to hold her against him, her real flesh and blood and bone, so much more than just a memory.

Peter knew it was ridiculous to think so, but he felt like what he shared with Michelle was something unique, something that they alone had been fortunate enough to discover amidst the pain and suffering of life. Was this the love that Ben had told him to look for, all those years ago? Love that he’d built by choosing, day after day?

When they finished, their breathing still heavy as sweat dotted their brows, Peter could only stare at her in awe. She’d chosen him, _Michelle Jones_ had chosen him. What had he ever done to be so lucky, to share this moment in her arms?

Michelle’s eyes twinkled as she regarded him. The playful smirk that crossed her lips felt bashful, or maybe hopeful. Peter missed the drift -- the constant connection and vulnerability that laid them bare, but he was beginning to see that he loved her mysteries, too.

Michelle wiped her thumb across his cheek, planting a quick kiss against his lips before turning away from him. She nestled herself against him, their bodies settling into each other’s contours with practiced ease, and pulled his arm across his body.

Peter planted a kiss on her shoulder and breathed in her scent, relishing the way she made his heart race, and said a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was listening.

The next morning, he woke to find her head on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns that slowly slid down his stomach.

“I missed you,” she said, her voice softer than he’d ever heard it.

“While I was sleeping?”

She nodded, tilting her head up to kiss his cheek.

Peter smiled and ran his fingers through her hair, the memories of last night dancing playfully through his head and sending a shiver down his spine.

“It feels like you missed me, too,” Michelle laughed, reaching down and grasping Peter beneath the sheets. He groaned as she teased him, and she snuggled closer, burying her face into his shoulder and breathing deeply.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Peter asked, his fingers trailing lazily down her back.

“Soulmates? Like two people destined to be together, no matter what?” Michelle snorted against him. “I never used to. I always thought it was some stupid fairytale to keep kids from realizing how miserable their parents were.”

Michelle turned to her side and propped her head on a pillow. “I think it’s more like what your Uncle Ben said about choosing the other person, every day. Like we did in the sparring ring. And when we opened our minds to each other, in the drift.”

“Do you believe in soulmates now?”

“It doesn’t seem like much of a question. Not when I’m looking at you.”

Michelle rolled on top of him and kissed him again, her hair falling around his face like a curtain, and her eyes heavy-lidded with desire. He would do anything for her; to keep her safe, to make her happy, to make her whole. Peter would give all of himself to her, again and again, as she gave herself to him.

“I love you,” he finally said, the words slipping past his lips as if this were familiar territory. As if he’d said them before and meant it.

“Dork,” Michelle said, planting slow kisses down his neck. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you haven't seen Pacific Rim and you made it this far, go check it out, it's totally worth it. Truly peak robot vibes
> 
> Let me know what you thought in the comments or come find me on [ Tumblr ](https://justmattycakes.tumblr.com/)!


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